


The Secondary Task

by ProfessorFrankly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Canon-Typical Violence, Frank discussion of teen sex, If you've read GoF you know the last bit's where the violence and stuff is, M/M, Most of this fic has a "T" rating, No actual teen sex, Quantum Bang 2020, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 50,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25917091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorFrankly/pseuds/ProfessorFrankly
Summary: When Harry Potter’s name comes out of the Goblet of Fire, Draco Malfoy decides the Boy-Who-LIved needs a friend, whether he wants one, or not. With his mother’s backing, Draco sets out to make sure Harry knows he has someone in his corner, for now, and if Draco has his way, for always.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 19
Kudos: 338
Collections: Minions' writings





	The Secondary Task

**Author's Note:**

> This pic is written for the Quantum Bang 2020, and it was first posted there, fully illustrated by CoCo, in June 2020. Thanks to Coco for her beautiful art and to GypsySue for the Beta and Brit-pick.

**Chapter 1**

Draco Malfoy watched as Harry Potter’s face turned sheet white.

Potter’s name had just come out of the Goblet of Fire. And by the looks of it, Potter didn’t enter himself.

Interesting.

…

_ My Darling Son, _

_ Your father’s Mark grows ever more clear. I fear that we will need to implement our plans sooner than we expected. Do keep watch on Harry Potter. He cannot trust anyone at that school, as you know, and I very much fear that he is being driven down a dark path. Your antagonism toward him was part of our plan, it is true, but I think it might be time to take a different tack if we wish to survive what is coming. Use your discretion, my son, in approaching him. He must survive, so that we may survive.  _

_ Your position in Slytherin house is secure. If you think it at all possible to befriend Mr Potter directly, you have my permission to do so. We can help, and we should. Our world must not become the dark and terrible place He would make it. Magic herself will not survive. _

_ With all my love, _

_ Mum _

…

The  _ fucking _ Ministry wanted Potter to face  _ fucking _ dragons.

Draco steamed inwardly as he caught a glimpse of the monstrous-looking animals being unloaded near the Forbidden Forest.

_ Fucking dragons.  _

Draco walked slowly back to his dorm, thinking. If ever there was a time to intervene on Potter’s behalf, now would be it.

But what to do, and how to go about doing it? The antagonism between the two of them wasn’t all fake. Though Draco bore Potter no ill will, at all, he did, at one time.

Rejecting his handshake had stung, badly.

But it had become apparent, in the intervening years, that Potter had no clue at all about his own heritage, his own place in the wizarding world, or even his own appeal as a person.

Where had he spent his childhood?

The rags Potter wore when he wasn’t in uniform provided a very healthy clue that all was not well in Potter’s home life. It was obvious unless you weren’t looking. Or, unless you did look, but didn’t want to see.

Draco had made rather a study of Potter from the beginning, after all. 

And now, facing  _ fucking _ dragons, Potter was down a friend--though Draco never did see the appeal of the Weasel--and without any sort of coach or mentor to help him figure things out. The other champions had their headmasters or mistress, and Diggory even had his Head of House, Professor Sprout, but Potter?

As far as Draco could tell, he had no adults in his corner at all.

Well, that could change, Draco thought, but it wasn’t likely to.

For some reason Draco couldn’t quite see, it appeared that no one wanted Harry to have an adult he could rely on. 

Well, fine. Draco wasn’t an adult, but he very much wanted to be someone Harry could rely on.

But how to approach it? How to approach him?

He thought for a moment, then had an epiphany. He made his way quickly to his room and his trunk.

From it, Draco drew three slim books: _Wizarding World Etiquette,_ _The Sacred 28 and Those Who Were Better Than That,_ and _Strategy for Beginners_. He bundled them up, then sat at his desk with parchment and quill.

_ Dear Potter, _

_ I know you have no reason to trust me. We’ve not really had a chance to get to know each other and at times I have been an outright twat to you. But I have no intention of seeing you become dragon food. I enjoy fighting with you too much. _

_ That said, these books are my own to share and to give. I think that you might find them enlightening. For one, you’ll find out why I was hurt and angry when you refused my hand on the train. For another, some strategy could be useful to you as you think about how to get past the  _ fucking _ dragons in the first task. If I come across anything else I think could be useful, I will share it. _

_ I would ask that you keep my help quiet if you can. My House can be, well, dangerous, for any who might express sympathy toward certain factions. I imagine the same could be said for yours under certain circumstances. I hope, today, that you will finally take the hand I offered you. In spirit, if nothing else. _

Draco sat back, and thought again, spinning his quill idly. He re-inked it and wrote one more line.

_ If nothing else, be assured that I am Slytherin enough to want to be on the winning side of whatever’s coming, and I believe that side to be yours. _

_ In friendship, _

_ Malfoy _

“Dobby!” Draco called. The little elf popped into his room. “Master Draco needs something?” he asked.

“How is Harry today?” Draco asked.

“Master Harry is sad and frustrated,” Dobby said, wringing his hands. “He’s not eating much.”

Draco frowned. “I wish we could be more open about our help,” he said, then shook his head. He picked up his bundle of books and the letter. “Can you please bring these to Harry? We’re tipping our hand a bit by having you do this, so maybe just leave it on his pillow or something and watch to make sure he gets it?”

Dobby wagged his finger at Draco. “That be creepy stalker behaviour, young master.”

Draco gave a lop-sided grin. “Isn’t that what I am?”

“Nah, you just be making sure your Harry Potter be safe,” Dobby assured him. He took the bundle from Draco. “I’ll be making sure he gets this.”

“Thank you, Dobby.”

…

Draco watched at breakfast the next day, and Potter caught his eye. They stared at each other long enough that Theo Nott elbowed Draco hard in the side, breaking the eye contact.

“What was that, Malfoy?” Nott drawled. “Fancy Potter, do you?”

Draco looked back up at Harry, who’d glanced down before glancing back up again. He smiled slowly, catching Harry’s eye. “Maybe.”

…

The letter on his pillow that night surprised him.

Draco sat on the edge of his bed and reached for the small folded parchment. The looped handwriting told him the message came from Harry; the fact that it was on his pillow told him that Harry had used a house elf for delivery, as well.

Dobby looked to be plenty busy, Draco thought.

He carefully broke the seal and opened the letter.

_ Dear Malfoy, _

_ Thank you for the books. I read the etiquette one first, and now I’m sort of wondering what else I’ve missed. I think you probably know by now that I didn’t intend to levy any sort of blood feud with your House--even if you were acting like an entitled bully. If you’re willing to start over, I am too. _

_ You should know that I’m coming to find out some friends aren’t who I thought they were. So it’s not really a surprise to think some people I thought of as enemies might not be who I thought, either. _

_ I appreciate your help. I know that you’d like to keep it quiet, so I have to ask: What was with the looks this morning? Not that I mind. Just curious. _

_ You can certainly call me Harry. _

_ In friendship, _

_ Harry. _

Draco smirked. The more he thought about Potter--no, Harry, it’s fine, he asked me to call him that--the more he started to dwell on the other’s messy black hair and sparkling green eyes.

_ Did I just think about sparkling eyes? Crap. _

He paused for a moment on that thought, then shrugged. It’s not like his mother would mind if their alliance with Po-- _ Harry _ , was cemented a bit more permanently. The scandal would irritate his father, but as he chose to let himself be marked by an evil twat, Draco didn’t much care.

He sat down at his desk to write a reply. __

_ Dear Harry, _

_ I would be delighted to call you Harry, and I invite you to call me Draco. It’s probably best we maintain last names in public, at least for now, but I’m happy to know that you’ll allow me the privilege of your first name. You really did read that etiquette book, didn’t you? _ _   
_ _ I don’t think it’s any secret to, well, anyone, really, that I’ve paid close attention to you, your friends, and your activities since we met in Diagon Alley. (I never did apologize for coming off like a twat at Madame Malkins, did I? It’s clear by now that you didn’t have anyone else to take you round the Alley, and I really stuck my foot in it. Well, I apologise. I was rude.) _

_ Did I know I was doing it because I liked the way your eyes sparkle? Or how your ridiculous hair can’t be tamed? No, I don’t think I did at 11. But at 14, well, some things are starting to get a little obvious. _

_ Be assured that if you’re in no way interested in me in that way, I will say or do nothing. But if perhaps, you ever entertained the idea of a romantic pairing between us, I would welcome your courting overture. _

_ Read the Sacred 28 book next, please. You’ll see why it must be you who makes the first move in that kind of game. _

_ In friendship (and maybe more), _

_ Draco _

Draco called Dobby, and his note was popped off to Harry.

…

_ Draco, _

_ What do you think about my summoning a broom to get to the egg I’m meant to take from the dragon? _ _   
_ _ Harry _

_ … _

_ Harry, _

_ Why don’t you just summon the damn egg? _

_ Draco _

_ … _

_ Draco, _

_ What if it’s spelled against that? I think that would be a pretty obvious solution, right? _

_ Harry _

_ … _

_ Harry, _

_ You seriously overestimate the common sense available to the members of the Ministry. I think it’s pooled in a cup somewhere, and the odds of Ludo Bagman having access to it, ever, are slim to none. _

_ Draco _

_ … _

_ Draco, _

_ Point. _

_ Harry _

_ … _

Draco sat nervously in the stands, watching as each of the other champions went up against the dragon. Fleur’s sleeping spell worked pretty well. Krum’s conjunctivitis curse worked but crushed some of the real eggs, which would cost the Ministry a pretty penny. Diggory? Well, offering the dragon alternate food wasn’t a terrible idea, but it was very, very Hufflepuff.

He bit his lip obviously as Harry entered the arena, and Nott, who sat next to him, took note, as Draco intended.

He watched as Harry stepped into the arena with a  _ fucking Hungarian Horntail _ , raised his wand, winked in Draco’s direction, and called out, “ _ Accio Golden Egg _ !”

To the crowd’s astonishment, the egg soared out of the nest and directly into Harry’s hands. 

The task was over, and Harry exited the Arena.

“Clever,” Nott muttered next to him. “Wonder where he got that idea?” And looked, very obviously, at Draco.

“It’s a mystery,” Draco said airily, his eyes tracking Harry’s progress toward the medical tent.

“Right,” Nott said. “You sure this is what you want?”

Draco smiled mysteriously and got up, Crabbe and Goyle getting up from their places behind him to follow him out of the stands.

…

_ Harry, _

_ Well done. Their faces were priceless. I thought Bagman would shite himself out of shock. Dumbledore twinkled more than I thought possible. You were just brilliant. _

_ I heard a rumour afterwards, though. Did Weasley actually apologise to you? Am I to be replaced? _

_ In friendship, _

_ Draco _

…

_ Draco, _

_ Thanks. It was your idea, though. I just executed it. But it did go rather well, I thought. _

_ Ron did apologise. I forgave him, but I’m not forgetting that he’s been a jealous asshole. I don’t think most know this, but Ron was my first ever friend, so he’s probably always going to get the benefit of the doubt from me in a lot of ways. But he won’t be replacing you, no. _

_ I have the distinct impression that friendship is the least of what you want from me. And I’ve no objection. _

_ Just as a bit of curiosity, what kind of courting overture would you entertain? _

_ (A bit beyond friendship,) _

_ Harry _

…

_ Harry, _

_ Cheeky, Harry, to ask the intended object of your affections for ideas about your courting gift. Very Gryffindor. Very you. Which means, of course, I love that you asked. _

_ If you read the books, you’ll see that the first gift usually is to signify intentions. It should be something that shows you know enough about me to make it personal, and enough about my station to make it worthy of attention.  _

_ If you are the gifter, I’m sure to love anything you decide to give.  _

_ One thing, though. I don’t know what you have planned, but there must be some sort of public presentation of the first gift. It doesn’t have to be huge and in the Great Hall, or anything like that. In fact, I’d recommend against that if we don’t want to draw attention. But the gift has to be given in front of a witness, who can sign the magical contract that we decide between ourselves if (when) I accept your gift. _

_ I’m being very forward in this letter, Harry. Mother will be scandalised when I tell her. (And she will also be pleased, not to worry. When we are able to meet together in person, I can explain, but she is very supportive of my communication with you. We need not speak of my father. Ever, if we don’t want. But that’s an in-person conversation.) _

_ I can tell you that my housemate, Theo Nott, is aware of my interest in you and might be a good candidate for our witness. It’s customary that the person making the gesture contact a witness to ensure he or she will be there for the presentation.  _

_ And I would very much like to see you in person. Someday, I hope to hear what you mean by your “first-ever friend.” Did you not have any friends among your peers before Hogwarts? _

_ Draco _

_ … _

_ Draco, _

_ I have an idea that it might be challenging for us to see each other before Yule break. And the unexpected task of taking someone to a ball has my mind going in many, many directions. Can I take you? Would you come? Would that be too public? If I can’t take you, who can I take without ruining things with you? _

_ And I suddenly want new clothes, and I have no idea where to go to get them. I’m not going to ask Hermione, and asking Ron is pointless. Friend Draco, help me, please. _

_ Regardless, do you think you’d be able to quietly meet me at some point during the Ball? Dobby showed me a place that I think would suit us. Perhaps bring Nott?  _

_ I’m glad to know your mother, at least, will be happy to see us building a relationship of some kind. With your permission, I’d like to share this with my godfather, Sirius Black. He is the only adult in my life with whom I have any sort of parental relationship, and I know he’ll think this a great prank. And, well, I don’t really like to talk about my years in Durzkaban (the less said about the Muggle relatives I must stay with during summers the better), but I wasn’t allowed friends, per se.  _

_ Thinking of you, _

_ Harry _

_ … _

_ Oh, Harry, _

_ I would love to go to the ball with you. I find that I want nothing more, actually, but I agree that perhaps that would be tipping our hand before we’re ready to. Let us say that we will each take a girl, as a friend, to throw others off our trail. And yes, I think we could find a time, easily, for us to meet with Nott. Dobby can help us arrange it. I take it you know that he’s in my employ? His bond with my father was broken, but I offered him my personal bond, and he accepted. His work here serves to help you and to keep an eye on things here at Hogwarts. _

_ I don’t mind your discussing this with Lord Black if you have contact with him. He’s my first cousin, once removed, after all. Actually, if you are in touch with him, ask him if he’s aware that he’s the de facto Lord Black. He might not know. And depending upon his circumstances, claiming his House ring at Gringotts could benefit him in real ways. As long as you are certain he will be supportive, I support your decision. _

_ Finally, I’m enclosing an owl-order catalogue for my tailor. Dobby can measure you. Fill in the measurements, circle what you want, and it will be delivered to you. I’m afraid he doesn’t stock much in the way of Muggle fashion, but I promise you will have good quality clothes. And they’ll take the gold from your own Gringotts vault with your key imprint as a signature. _

_ I will ask no more about “Durzkaban,” but I hope one day you will feel comfortable talking about it. I had gathered that things were not… great? Too much? Too little? But know that I support you in whatever way I can. _

_ Always thinking of you, _

_ Draco _

_ … _

_ Draco, _

_ Well, I’ve done it. I have reclaimed my key--Mrs. Weasley still had it, I’m not sure why I didn’t think to get it from her before--and I’ve ordered enough new clothes that I hope I won’t embarrass you too badly if we’re ever able to go public.  _

_ As I thought, Sirius thinks our courting is a grand prank, though he did have some concerns to start off with. Being in Azkaban for so long makes him a bit prone to paranoia, I think, but given the circumstances of the last war, I can see why he’d be a bit concerned. He did not know that he was the Lord Black. It somehow slipped his mind that was even a possibility. I suggested he go claim the ring and see about getting some help if he can. Perhaps he could arrange for a private Healer under his House protections?  _

_ I will be taking Parvati Patil to the ball, and she knows we’re going only as friends. Ron is taking Padma. Parvati is a bit of a gossip, but she’s good-hearted and understands that I’m actually spoken for. She’s also agreed to cover my escape to meet with you that night, for which I’m grateful.  _

_ I will see you there, at the Come-and-Go room Dobby found, at about 10 p.m. Dobby carried a note to Nott for me, and he’s agreed to come and witness. He might mention it to you. _

_ Looking forward to our date, _

_ Harry _

_ … _

_ Harry, _

_ You will  _ never _ embarrass me in any way. I couldn’t be more proud to be the person you’re interested in courting, and I cannot imagine a time that I wouldn’t be happy to have you on my arm. Or be on yours. Whichever works for us. _

_ That said, I am looking forward to seeing what you bought. Knowing you do so for me gives me a good feeling. I hope I can dress to impress you, as well. _

_ I’m taking Pansy Parkinson. She’s not a great choice, honestly, because she has designs above her station and has hinted strongly, more than once, that she’d like a courting overture. I smile and say nothing because I’m not interested in her that way. My father has hopes, but so far, my mother has persuaded him not to start a betrothal contract on my behalf. Theo has agreed to help facilitate my escape, and Blaise will step in to dance with her when we go so that she doesn’t feel neglected. _

_ I look forward to our date, too. _

_ Draco _

_ … _

Draco offered Pansy his arm, and escorted her to the Great Hall politely, hoping to catch a glimpse of Harry among the other Champions before they were led to the ball. Pansy clung tenaciously to his elbow and chattered in his ear, but he paid no attention as he finally saw what he’d been looking for.

Harry looked amazing.

His dress robes, in Slytherin Green, brought out his eyes, and his hair had grown out enough to pull it back in a short ponytail at the base of his neck, the rest smoothed with what Draco could only assume was liberal amounts of his family’s hair potion. His trademark glasses had been polished to a gleam, framing those gorgeous green eyes, and  _ why was he obsessing over Harry’s eyes again? _

“Right, Pansy, that’s very interesting, now do be quiet for a moment while they call the Champions in,” Draco said disinterestedly.

Pansy glared at him but did as he asked. 

Harry caught Draco’s eye and gave him a slow, approving smile.

Draco preened. He did look rather handsome, he thought. His black robes, trimmed in silver, brought out the silver-grey of his eyes, and his hair, trimmed short in the back as befitting an heir, flopped in a curve over his right eye to frame it. 

Merlin, we are not subtle at all, Draco thought, and he smiled back. 

Nott nudged him, and Draco broke eye contact, tuning back into Pansy, who’d started nattering again about something or another.

Right. Dinner and dancing. 

They ate. He swept Pansy out onto the floor in the wake of the Champions, giving her the first dance, as was proper, before Theo tapped him on the shoulder. “We have a situation,” Nott said solemnly. “I’m sorry; I’m going to need to steal you.”

Pansy pouted. “But I wanted to dance some more.”

“Ah, well,” Draco raised a hand and caught Blaise’s attention. Blaise came over to the dance floor. “Blaise will fill in for me, won’t you?”

Blaise gave nothing away as he bowed and said, “Of course. I’m always happy to dance with a beautiful girl.”

Pansy tittered. Draco refrained, barely, from rolling his eyes, as he gave Pansy’s hand to Blaise. “I don’t know how long I’ll be,” he said quietly, for both of them to hear.

Blaise gave a brief nod, and Pansy pouted in a way she probably thought was pretty before nodding, too. “I’m sure I’ll have fun with Blaise instead, then.”

“Thank you,” he said to Blaise, before turning to follow Theo.

The pair trooped up to the Come-and-Go room, Theo watching for anyone who might follow, and Draco paced in front of the dancing troll. On the third pass, a door appeared, and Draco and Theo stepped inside.

“Wow,” Theo said and whistled. “Potter went all out.”

Harry had gotten there first, obviously, and set up a cosy lounge room with drinks and snacks, twinkling lights, and fresh Yule flowers. Another door by a stone fireplace, blazing with a crackling fire, opened even as Draco looked, revealing Harry.

“Hi,” Harry said softly.

“Hi,” Draco replied, smiling at him.

They stood and looked at each other, smiling, until Theo rolled his eyes and said, “Right, the UST here is ridiculous. Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

The tips of Harry’s ears turned pink, and Draco was charmed.

“Right,” Harry said and cleared his throat. “Heir Malfoy, please join me here by the fire?”

Draco grinned. “Of course, Lord Potter.”

Harry quirked a brow. “I just discovered that bit after I read your books, you know. I’m going to Gringotts tomorrow myself to claim my rings.”

“How are you managing that?” Draco asked, taking a seat. 

“At Sirius’ suggestion, I’m sneaking out undercover to Hogsmeade, where he’ll meet me and apparate with me to London,” Harry said, taking the other seat. “Apparently, when he claimed his own ring, he discovered many problems with the Black and Potter accounts. Including some fraud, as Sirius is my legal magical guardian and someone else was claiming to be that.”

“Really?” Draco thought that over. “Hmmm.”

“He also engaged a private healer, as I suggested, and discovered he’d been spelled to forget he had any sort of noble claim at all,” Harry said. “No way to tell who did that now, obviously, but it’s old work. He’s getting himself healed and keeping his claim of the title silent, so I’d appreciate your being quiet about it, too.”

“No problem,” Draco said, shooting a glance at Nott, who looked like someone denied him a sweet. “Anything done here is done under the secrecy accords of the courting contract that Nott presumably has?”

Theo nodded. “I do. Dobby brought it to me on Harry’s behalf. And yes, of course.”

“Excellent,” Draco said. He bit his lip. “Would you like company tomorrow?”

Harry grinned. “Why, Heir Malfoy, are you suggesting sneaking out of Hogwarts? The very idea is so terribly Gryffindor.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Just, well, I’d like to be on hand if I can, to answer any questions you might have, or you know, just be there for my betrothed.”

Harry’s eyes softened. “I’d actually love it. I’m sure Siri won’t mind. Just, I’m leaving directly after breakfast. There’s a passage to Hogsmeade that opens up in the Honeydukes cellar. Meet me by the one-eyed witch statue? I can get us out from there.”

Draco smiled softly. “I’ll be there.”

“Right,” Theo said. “The sap is getting to me. Here’s the contract, lads, as I’m positive you’ve discussed already. But if you need changes at this late date, you can cross them out and add them, initial them, and do it before you sign and seal the document.”

“Yes, right,” Harry said and looked at the parchment Theo held out. “Let’s go over it, shall we?”   
The pair read it out loud in turns, making sure they understand all its parts together. Draco clarified one point; Harry another. In the end, very few changes were made to the original document, and Draco looked up at Harry expectantly.

“I can see that you want your courting gift,” Harry said with a little grin. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you already know me well?” Draco said coyly.

Harry laughed, then held out a hand. A carved willow box appeared in it, laden with protective runes.

“Oh, shiny,” Draco deadpanned and giggled.

Harry rolled his eyes and handed the box over. “It opens with the unlocking spell, and it’s part of your gift, actually. It’s warded against theft, and it has a pretty intense notice-me-not built into it that you and I are keyed into. You could store anything important in there that you wanted to keep safe. But it’s already got one thing in it.”

Draco whispered, “Alohomora,” and the box opened, revealing a space lined in Slytherin green velvet. On it rested a single, broad, silver man’s ring, with an ebony stone. A  _ recognisable _ man’s ring.

“The Black promise ring?” Draco breathed. “Oh,  _ Harry _ .”

Harry smiled, and for the first time, touched Draco, just lightly, on the arm. “I thought you’d best appreciate something with family history, something with value beyond price.”

Theo whistled. 

Draco lifted the ring carefully out of the box and slid it onto his left ring finger, where it warmed and sized to fit him. “You are not wrong,” Draco said. “But do you know what this  _ means _ ?”

Harry reached for the box, still in Draco’s hands, and set it down before taking both of Draco’s hands in his. “I do. Siri explained it to me. It means that I truly intend for our courtship to end in a lifetime partnership. In marriage. I know our contract specifies we have three years to court, with betrothal expected by my seventeenth birthday unless we choose to part. But giving you this, now, means I’m already committed. Draco, I expect that I could get used to seeing that ring on your finger. But I do plan to give you the Potter bonding ring for your seventeenth birthday, Dragon. I want you to know how serious I am about this.”

Draco refused to let the tear that had gathered in his eye fall but smiled softly. “I could love you, Harry, in time. But I will absolutely put everything I have into being your partner.”

“That’s all I would ask for now, and all I hoped to signify,” Harry said.

Theo cleared his throat. “Best sign that contract then, yeah?”

“Right,” Draco squeezed Harry’s hands. “Right. Let’s.”

Harry squeezed back, dropped Draco’s hands, and reached for the special quill he’d brought along. He signed his name and handed the quill to Draco, who also signed. Theo signed as the witness and then Harry sealed the whole thing. The minute his heir ring seal hit the wax, the original document glowed, copied itself, and then disappeared. The copies remained, and Harry picked one up to tuck into his pocket before holding a hand out to his intended.

“Can I interest you in a late snack?” Harry asked. “I’ve got it set up in that room next door.”

“You may,” Draco said. “Theo, I think we’re set here.”

Theo picked up the other copy. “I think you ought to put this in your new box, Draco. We don’t want the others getting wind of this right now.”

“Likely not,” Draco allowed. He watched as Theo set the document in the open box, then headed out with a wink.

As the door closed behind him, Draco turned to Harry. “You know, now that we’re officially courting, we probably ought to have a chaperone. But as you gave me the Black ring, I think we can dispense with that.”

“Brave of you,” Harry said, tugging on Draco’s hand to move him a bit closer. “What if I wanted to have my wicked way?”

Draco burst out laughing. “Where did you get that?”

“Oh, from one of my aunt’s stories.” He quirked a half-grin. “I like listening to you laugh.”

Draco moved a little closer. “I like listening to you.”

Harry smiled softly. “Would a kiss be considered scandalous?”

“Terribly,” Draco confirmed. “But I really don’t mind.”

Their lips met, chastely, for a long moment, and then Draco drew back a little, softly breathing into Harry’s mouth. “I mean I  _ really _ don’t mind.”

Harry smiled and kissed him again.

**Chapter 2**

Upon returning to his dorm room that evening, Draco felt as though he was floating through his nightly routine. He was vaguely aware that he was smiling, widely, when he sat down to open the twinned journal in which he conversed with his mother.

_ Mother, _

_ I expect you’ll be pleased to hear that the courting contract has been signed and witnessed. His courting overture...Mother, he gave me the Black promise ring. In a beautiful warded box made of my wand wood. _

_ I’m so happy I can’t even stand myself.  _

_ You’ll also be pleased to hear that he’s taken an interest in his title and has been in touch with your liege, who has claimed his. We will be sneaking out of Hogwarts tomorrow, he and I, so that Harry can claim his own ring. We knew the courting contract would be valid because he was at least a recognised Heir. With the claiming of his ring, everything should be quite settled, at least for the next three years. _

_ We plan to leave after breakfast. Mother, I would not mind your support, should you be free to offer it, at Gringotts in the morning. _

_ With love, _

_ Dragon _

He closed the journal, then sat back, twisting the new ring on his finger.

Somehow, though Harry said he knew what it meant, Draco didn’t think he really did. 

Really, really.

Married to Harry Potter. Lord Consort Draco Malfoy-Potter. Draco sighed, dreamily, allowing himself one minute to bask in the romance of it.

Right. Enough of that.

Draco took stock of what he’d need for the morning, laid out his clothes, and settled into bed. His mother, if she saw the note tonight, would leave a response for the morning, so he’d know whether she’d be present.

He’d retreat to his room after breakfast, then have Dobby pop him to the statue of the one-eyed witch when Harry was in place. From there?

An adventure with his intended.

Draco couldn’t wait.

…

When morning came, Draco dressed carefully. An astute observer would see he wore the pants and button-down that went with his best wizarding suit, but a sloppy Slytherin green jumper tossed over the ensemble distracted the eye from the intent, which was a quick change after breakfast, adding vest and robes. He always took time with his hair, so no one would comment on that, at least.

He ran into Theo in the common room, who smirked at him, but obligingly remained silent on the way to the Great Hall, allowing Draco his thoughts. The pair sat in their usual places at the Slytherin table, and Draco drew the porridge toward himself. He added strawberries and cream, and ate heartily, watching for signs of Harry at the Gryffindor table. He spotted him about halfway down, a few places from his usual spot, wearing a sloppy red sweater and eating scrambled eggs. 

Draco made eye contact, and smiled, slowly. Harry winked at him, careful to do so from the turned-away Hermione Granger, who sat on his other side, puffy-eyed. No sign of the Weasel this morning.

He finished his porridge, then made eye contact again. Harry inclined his head slightly, and Draco did the same as he left for his room. Once he left sight of the Hall, he moved more quickly, heading to the Slytherin dorm to make the quick change he needed to meet Harry.

He ran into no one, and a quick whisper of the password later, he was up the hallway to his private room. A swish of his wand changed out his clothes, and he noticed that his journal was glowing. He opened it quickly to find a note from his mother:

_ Dragon, _

_ I am delighted for you. Rest assured, if you need it, I will provide your excuses for leaving school. I also will be at Gringotts at 9 a.m. I’ve convinced your father that he needs a morning’s respite, and so have sent him to the villa in Italy for some sun. I will join him there for lunch after my errands. _

_ Love, Mum _

Excellent. Draco took one last look in the mirror, then called, “Dobby!”

Dobby popped in. “Master Draco looking sharp.”

“Off to Gringotts with Harry to witness his ring claiming,” Draco said calmly. “Need to look my best.”

“Master Harry be nervous this morning,” Dobby confided. “He’s waiting under his cloak at the statue already.”

“Then let’s be off, please,” Draco said and held out his hand.

Dobby took it and they popped to the statue. A disembodied hand reached out for Draco and pulled him under Potter’s invisibility cloak.

“Oh,” Draco said, breathlessly. “Hello.”   
Harry chuckled and laid a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Dobby’s providing lookout. Watch.” Harry pulled his wand, tapped the statue from under his cloak, and whispered, “Dissendium.”

The stone moved, showing a sliver of space large enough for one person to climb down.

“Brilliant,” Draco breathed. “Who’s first?”

“You, please,” Harry said. “I’ll cover you. You’ll want to go down a bit to leave me room to follow, but it does widen up so that we can walk together eventually.”

Draco nodded and without another word, headed into the passage. He felt, rather than saw, Harry follow him and hummed to himself as he held out his wand and cast, “Lumos!”

The light helped a bit, and as he moved down, he discovered that Harry was right. Not only did the passage widen, allowing Harry to catch up and walk with him, but light sconces on the walls began to light up automatically with their movement.

“That’s very handy,” Draco observed. 

“‘Tis,” Harry agreed, pausing for a moment to stow his cloak in his messenger bag. He jogged to catch Draco up, then held out a hand, which Draco took, blushing a little as Harry laced their fingers together.

They chatted a little as they made their way down the corridor, mostly talking about how unfair it was that the tournament had cancelled Quidditch. “I’d totally take you this time,” Draco boasted. “Sure, you would,” Harry said, his tone obviously humouring him. They both ignored the innuendo, aware of it only in the pinkening of the tips of Harry’s ears. 

“Say,” Draco said suddenly as they reached the ladder at the end of the passageway. “Does Lord Black know that I’m coming?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “He predicted you’d want the adventure if you were anything like your mother. Which, of course, you are. Up you get. Siri said he’d be browsing the chocolates. We’ll cloak up when we get into the cellar and head up the stairs.”

Draco smirked. And if he gave a wiggle of his arse as he went up the ladder in front of Harry, well. Only he had to know that Harry groaned a little. 

When Draco reached the wooden door to the cellar basement, he eased it up slowly, peeking in to see if the cellar was clear. No one seemed to be present, so he eased it up further and climbed into the cellar silently, before extending a hand down to Harry, who took it.

They manoeuvred the flat door back into place, then Harry pulled his cloak back out and covered them with it. They didn’t worry too much about flashes of ankle on the stairs, but as they eased through the main door into the shop, Harry elbowed him gently and mimed hunching.

Right, Draco thought. I’m a bit taller than he is at the moment.

Draco ducked a little, and after Harry checked to see that they were all completely covered, they headed toward the chocolates, where a nondescript looking wizard with sandy hair and green eyes looked at a chocolate orange. A tap to his elbow led the man to look up, set the orange back down, and walk out of the store, Draco and Harry following closely, to an empty alley nearby.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” the man said to no one in particular, and Harry visibly relaxed. 

“Siri. We’re under the cloak,” Harry said.

“Ah, the dragon came, too?” the man asked.

“Yes. You don’t look like yourself,” Harry said. 

“Forgot to tell you. Got a goblin-made glamour, tied to a bit of jewellery,” the man pulled off a necklace, and Draco caught a glimpse of black curly hair and laughing grey eyes before the necklace was hastily put back. “Mischief managed, I think.”

“Most definitely,” Harry said. “What’s next?”

Siri held out both hands. “Don’t let go. We’ll apparate to the Gringotts front steps. You can ditch the cloak there quickly enough, and we’ll head into the bank. Ready?”

In answer, Draco stuck his slim, white hand out from one side of the cloak as Harry’s darker hand came out from the other side. Siri chuckled as he realised the pair were holding hands. He tightened his grip, and turned a heel.

They landed in a heap on the Gringotts steps, in a spot off to the side. Good thing, too, Draco thought, as he noticed the few wizards and witches about to finish shopping or distribute their Boxing Day gifts. He stood slowly, sliding the cloak off of himself and straightening his cravat before holding a hand down to Harry, who was detangling himself as well. He helped him up, then glanced around.

“Into the bank, before you stow the cloak, I think, my dear,” Draco murmured.

Harry and Siri glanced around. Siri nodded briskly. “Agreed.”

They hastened into the bank.

Inside, Draco spotted his mother waiting patiently in a cove, a cup of tea in her hand. He let go of Harry to approach her with both of his own hands, knowing she’d vanish her tea for him. “Mother,” Draco said formally and allowed himself to be drawn into a brief hug. He kissed her cheek and turned to Harry and Siri. “My companions, Lord Black and Heir Potter.”

Narcissa smiled gently at him, then turned to curtsy. “My Liege. And my son’s much-welcome intended. I hope you don’t mind his inviting me to provide, how did he put it? Ah, yes. Backup.”

“Lady Malfoy,” Harry bowed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you formally. Will your husband be joining us?”   
Narcissa’s eyes glittered with amusement and a little admiration at the cheek. “Not at all,” she said airily. “He was persuaded to rest at our villa in Italy this morning while I ran errands. I will join him for lunch later, and I am assured that he is, in fact, there.”

“Persuaded.” Siri stood back and laughed, a bit harshly. “Narcissa Black Malfoy, what have you been up to?”

“My Liege,” Narcissa looked up at him. “I owe you a thousand apologies. And a rather long explanation. But I promise this: I am on your side, always.”

A glow between the two of them made Draco’s eyebrows raise, and Harry looked to Siri for an explanation. Siri noticed. “A magical oath, pup,” he explained and nodded. “Very well, Narcissa. And honestly, didn’t you call me Siri once upon a time?”

“Only when your mother couldn’t hear it,” Narcissa allowed. “May I hug you?”

“You may.”

They hugged fiercely, and Harry looked at Draco. “Are we too closely related to be betrothed?”

“Not at all, Harry,” Draco said softly, regarding his mother with something like wonder. “Your father and Sirius were second cousins, I think. They shared a great-grandmother on the Black side? Maybe? I’d have to review the tree.”

Siri gave a bark of laughter. “Dorea Black.” He stepped back from Narcissa. “Who married Charlus Potter, your great-grandfather’s brother. They had no children, but your great-grandfather Henry did. And your grandfather, Fleamont, did, eventually, have James. All the rest of the Potters were wiped out in the war with Moldyshorts, and that leaves you the last of the line and the Heir to the Potter Lordship.”

Draco mouthed, “Moldyshorts,” an expression of utter disbelief on his face. Harry snorted, then composed himself. 

Siri straightened. “Well, we have a room set aside, so we best get there before we air all of our House business today. Good choice of private cove, Cissy.”

“Thank you,” Narcissa demurred. “Shall we?”

The quartet moved down the hall to the Noble office, from which they were directed to a comfortably furnished lounge. There, they met Ragnok, the bank’s director and overseer of Noble accounts, titles, and business.

“Ah,” Ragnok said. “Lord Black, Lady Malfoy, Heir Potter, Heir Malfoy. Welcome. I understand you’re here to claim your Lordship, Heir Potter.”

“I am,” Harry said calmly.

“And you’ve brought appropriate witnesses,” Ragnok acknowledged. “Lord Black, it is safe for you to remove your glamour in this space.”

Siri took the hint, removing the necklace and placing it in his pocket. Draco thought Siri’s true looks suited him much better. 

“Heir Potter, as you know we’ve had to wait to audit your accounts until you claimed the Lordship. As a minor, you had no legal way to view any but your trust vault. At this time, your magical guardian is no longer incarcerated and could instigate this action on your behalf, but as you’re fourteen, have been declared an adult by no less than three Ministry officials in a public setting, and have bound yourself to a courting contract, you are eligible to claim your ring.”

Harry nodded. “I think it’s best I do so, for my own protection. The Ministry has its own agenda with regard to me, and I don’t trust that it’s an agenda that serves my interests at all.”

Ragnok reached for the carved wooden box that contained the Potter ring, then held it out to Harry. “Your ring, Heir Potter.”

Harry took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly before accepting the box and opening it. The ring gleamed at him, a heavy twist of gold and platinum set with a large ruby that sat flush, with diamonds on either side. The Potter crest appeared to be etched into the main stone. He picked it up, set the box down, and with a steady motion, pushed the ring onto the third finger of his right hand. The ring warmed and sized to fit him.

Draco watched, waiting for some sort of signal from Harry.

Who continued to look at the Ring. In fact, it looked as though Harry was entranced.

“Harry?” Draco said softly.

Lord Black--Siri, Draco reminded himself again--shook his head. “Wait, Draco. The ring is clearly communicating information to the new Lord Potter. James told me about this. It sort of holds the memories and accumulated knowledge of the previous lords. It’s a unique bit of magic to his line.”

“Did yours do something similar?” Draco asked.

“Somewhat,” Siri allowed. “The Blacks have other objects, which I was able to access with the ring, that gave me similar information about our line. All we can do for Harry at the moment is wait.”

“Right.” Draco continued to watch Harry while he asked, idly, “Any idea how long?”

“As long as it takes,” Siri said. He glanced at Narcissa. “Meanwhile, do you want to go into your explanation now?”   
“I’d prefer to wait until Lord Potter can also take part,” Narcissa said. “If things go as the boys hope, he will be my son-in-law, and he should be a part of our discussions overall.”

Siri inclined his head, and they all watched as Harry took a gulp of air and relaxed. A faint glow swept over him and a black mist erupted from the scar in his forehead.

“What was that?” Draco asked no one in particular.

“A piece of Moldy’s soul,” Harry said darkly, hoarsely. “Apparently lodged there since he tried to kill me as a baby.”

Everyone sort of looked at each other with raised eyebrows in that sort of British way that makes everyone look utterly appalled, fascinated, and dismayed, all at once.

“Do you mean to tell me that the self-styled Lord Voldemort split his soul?” Ragnok growled.

“According to the ring, that’s exactly what he did,” Harry said, anger apparent in his calm, low voice. “It automatically gauges the health of the new Lord and looks for curses. It came up with that. It called it a Horcrux, and said it’s the very darkest magic.”

“It’s not wrong,” Ragnok said. “And if a shard of his soul split off in the events that night, it must have been very unstable. That can only mean he’s split his soul more than once.”

Narcissa looked pale, Siri looked murderous, and Draco looked confused.

Harry, however, clenched his jaw. “I believe that Professor Dumbledore might know more about that, given the events of my second year.”

“Ah, yes,” Narcissa said. “The year my husband proved his loyalties once and for all. And they were not to his family. I took control of him shortly after he tried to kill you, Lord Potter, and I do apologise for his actions.”

Siri raised a sardonic eyebrow. “You took control of him, Narcissa?”

She shrugged elegantly. “We discussed his actions, I expressed my disapproval, and I reminded him that he wasted the Malfoy money on that wanker. Since he was rendered infertile by a curse he took shortly after Draco was born, also due to that wanker, Lucius defaulted on our marriage contract by failing to provide me with more than one child. At this point, should he wish to live in the manner to which he is accustomed, he will do as he is told. Or I shall take our son and my money and leave. He wasn’t pleased. But he can be reasonable.”

“Especially with a Confundus or two?” Siri asked, well aware of his cousins’ training in household management.

“Perhaps,” she said, with a Cheshire smile.

Harry looked at Draco. “I’m not sure I approve. And yet, I really do approve. Have you been learning spousal management at your mother’s knee?”

“Among other things,” Draco said, “though I wouldn’t worry, Harry. It’s mostly Lucius-management that I’ve been learning. You and I will find our own way together.”

Harry gave him a slow smile, and Draco blushed.

“You two are adorable,” Siri observed. “It’s a little sickening. I can hardly wait to see the fallout from your marital alliance.”

“It’s going to be entertaining,” Narcissa agreed. “But more than that, and I hope I do not offend Lord Potter, I am very glad your alliance will allow us to safeguard you, your assets, your status, and life. It appears that claiming your ring already has brought a measure of protection.”

“Yes, and I don’t know that I would ever have known to do so without Draco’s help,” Harry confessed. “I didn’t know it was even a thing. And Sirius, well.”

“I was spelled to ignore the Black family and to be utterly uninterested in my own noble rights,” Siri said. “It’s old work. As far back as my childhood, actually, and the signature degraded over time.”

“Who would have had the most to gain by that?” Harry asked. Draco approved of the question.

Ragnok answered it.

“Anyone interested in taking control of the Black estates and properties,” the goblin said. “And that is quite a lengthy list.”

“Quite,” Narcissa agreed.

“And it includes numerous relatives as well as purported friends,” Sirius agreed. “Well. I’m all better now, and I have no intention of letting the family legacies languish. I plan to hand down an edict to the family refusing succour or shelter to any who sport the Dark Mark.”

Narcissa smiled. “Oh, lovely. Believe it or not, that will cover only Bellatrix and her husband. Much of the extended family wouldn’t touch that wanker with a ten-foot pole because of his low status--an illegitimate half-blood of a line known to be prone to insanity.”

“Not that the Blacks can talk much about the insanity thing,” Siri muttered.

“No,” Narcissa agreed, “but we do take care of our own.”

Draco was intrigued by the idea of Moldy being an illegitimate half-blood but assumed he could ask Harry later, as it appeared that Harry knew exactly what his mother was talking about.

“Well,” Harry said, turning to Ragnok, “please institute the audit on my accounts. If someone’s been accessing them illegally, I’d like to know. But even if there’s been no such activity on the account, they’ve been languishing for a number of years, so we really ought to put the money to work again.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Lord Potter,” Ragnok said. “It shall be done.” 

Harry smiled. “Draco, would you and your mother like to join Siri and I for an early lunch? I’m starving.”

Draco glanced at his mother, who nodded. “We’d love to. I imagine we’ll have other things to discuss, too. Like our courting contract.”

Siri nodded. “Yes, I’d like to see it. I advised Harry, of course, but I’d like to review the contract itself and see what the pair of you snuck in there.”

“Why, Sirius, it’s like you don’t trust us,” Harry said cheekily.

“You, my young Gryffindor, have a Slytherin core,” Sirius said dryly. “Does your intended know this about you?”

“Oh, I’m fairly certain that’s part of the attraction,” Harry allowed, and smirked at Draco, who held up one hand in the universal sign for “just a little bit.”

“Yes,” Draco said. “He mentioned he’d been a hat stall, actually. Didn’t surprise me in the least.”

“Well, then, lunch. Wait, Narcissa, didn’t you say you planned to join Lucius for lunch?”

Narcissa smiled. “I’ll have a cup of tea with you all before I leave. I, too, would like to see what our young men have cooked up between them.”

Ragnok cleared his throat and held out a ledger book for Harry to take. “Your account ledger, Lord Potter. It’s as up-to-date as we can make it, and the numbers should be automatically recorded daily. Please take it with you. As your audit proceeds, you’ll have all the information you need there.”

“Thank you, Ragnok, for your time and presence today,” Harry said gravely. “May your coffers overflow.”

Ragnok nodded and showed them the door.

…

The group decided to head into Muggle London for lunch, settling on an Indian place that Sirius vaguely remembered from pre-Azkaban. Harry, who’d rarely been allowed to eat takeout with the Dursleys, expressed interest in trying curry, which always smelled good when Dudley ate it.

The Malfoys were on board with this plan, as a secret hobby of theirs had been eating in Muggle restaurants on Saturdays, followed by a trip to the cinema since Draco was 4 or so.

Sirius and Narcissa handled quick transfigurations of the boys’ wizarding attire before they left the Leaky Cauldron, and Sirius had slipped his glamour necklace around his neck to resume his nondescript appearance. 

As they settled in around their table, Harry took a deep sniff. “That smells really good,” he said.

“You’ll probably want to start with something like Butter Chicken,” Draco advised. “It’s mild but flavorful, and if you’re not used to a lot of spice at all it’s a good choice. We should get some paneer and naan, too, Mother.”

“Oh, and some samosas for the table,” Narcissa exclaimed, while Sirius looked at her as if she’d grown another head.

“What happened to my snobby cousin?” he wondered allowed.

“She discovered the joys of Indian food, Sirius, and there was no way to hold her back after that,” Narcissa deadpanned. 

Harry and Draco laughed out loud, while Sirius pouted. 

“But seriously ….” Sirius said leadingly.

“Well, I made a friend,” Narcissa said, “when I was pregnant with Draco. She was a muggleborn, she was pregnant, too, and she introduced me to the Muggle world.” She took a deep breath. “I was devastated when Lily died and determined to help her son any way I could.”

“I didn’t know you were friends with Lily,” Sirius said softly.

“Well, how could you?” Narcissa replied reasonably. “You and James were busy with the raids, Lucius was actively taking part in the raids. On the surface, we were on opposite sides. But we met at St. Mungo’s one day. I confess I had been having a rough time of it, and I burst into tears in the waiting room when I got a message that Lucius couldn’t join me, again, and I was worried for my baby and I simply broke down. She was there, too, and it didn’t matter to her whether I was a Death Eater’s wife or not--I was a fellow human being, growing another human being, who needed a shoulder to lean on for a moment. We became quite good friends, then. We had lunch frequently in the Muggle world, as it was safest, and she introduced me to the cinema, too.”

Narcissa looked at Harry, the memories putting a fine sheen of tears in her eyes. “I mourned your mother, Harry, and I tried looking for you, too, especially when Sirius was shut in Azkaban. I didn’t know what I could do, and Dumbledore whisked you out of sight so fast that it was impossible to know where you were. I managed to figure out that you’d been placed with her sister, and I was able to get a house-elf past the wards by the time you were 3.”

Harry closed his eyes. “Dobby.”

“Yes, Dobby,” Narcissa agreed, softly. “He wasn’t able to do much about your aunt and uncle’s treatment of you. But he was able to aid you with your assigned chores and magically multiply what was on your own plate at mealtimes. He couldn’t do too much--they are truly awful people, and your aunt is observant--but he was able to redirect the worst of the ire in an attempt to keep you safe. Which ought to have been a large clue to me when Lucius was up to such no good that Dobby felt you safer at Privet Drive than at Hogwarts. I’m so sorry, Harry; I got complacent.”

Draco could see Harry processing this, and decided to give his intended a moment to do so. “Why did you not tell me, Mother?”

Narcissa smiled tremulously at her son. “I intended to do so next summer, but you, my lovely son, decided to take matters in a direction I didn’t anticipate at all. Not that I regret it, certainly. I hope Lily would be happy that the pair of you have found in each other a potential partner. She certainly thought you a beautiful baby, and the pair of you played together often enough before she went into hiding.”

The conversation paused as their server brought great platters of everything they’d ordered to the table, family-style. The group shared out the food, taking the opportunity to settle down. 

Harry took a bite of the butter chicken, over rice, and hummed appreciatively. “That’s delicious, Draco.”

“I thought you’d like it,” Draco said. “Try a samosa.”

They ate their way through the pile of food while Narcissa had a samosa and a cup of tea, and Sirius cleaned up a sampler platter. Draco produced a copy of their courting contract for the adults to review while he reached for Harry’s hand under the table, eating with his left hand and fooling absolutely no one.

Narcissa and Sirius read through the contract together. “Seems pretty standard,” Sirius mentioned. “It looks like what I suggested.”

“We did add an opt-out clause,” Draco said, squeezing Harry’s hand. “We didn’t want anyone claiming that Harry was coerced into courtship or locked in for nefarious reasons, or anything. Neither of us intends to use it, but if we mutually decide we don’t work, we can dissolve it.”

“I think my giving Draco the Black promise ring demonstrates my intent and commitment to the potential of this partnership,” Harry said. He reached for another piece of naan to wipe up the sauce on his plate. 

“Agreed,” Narcissa said softly. “It’s a very strong first overture. But then again, Potters are known for their decisiveness in matters of the heart.”

“Not that Blacks are flighty in that respect,” Sirius added hastily. “But we do tend to wander a bit before we settle. Once settled, we’re a little possessive.”

“Hmm,” Harry said and turned to Draco. “Feeling possessive, Heir Malfoy?”

“A bit,” Draco smirked. “And Malfoys love once.”

“A fact which mitigates my ire toward Lucius,” Narcissa sighed. “I do love the man, and he, me. But I fear what will come should the wanker return.”

“Well, then,” Harry said, slowly. “We’ll just have to make certain that doesn’t happen.”

**Chapter 3**

Harry and Draco returned to Hogwarts the same way they’d left, via the tunnel under Honeydukes. The pair chatted quietly as they made their way up the tunnel, and Harry paused as they got to the final climb to the one-eyed witch.

“Draco, I want to start being less secretive,” Harry said, “if you don’t mind.”

Draco smiled. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, Theo knows we’re courting,” Harry pointed out reasonably. “I’m sure some of your other friends have noticed that you’re sort of into me. I’m almost positive that Hermione has figured out that I’m sort of into you, even if she hasn’t said anything to Ron. Who is, honestly, pretty dense about this stuff.”

“Yeah, I caught that,” Draco admitted. “Is he why Hermione’s all puffy today?”

“Had it out with her before bed,” Harry confirmed. “Something about how she shouldn’t have gone with Krum to the ball, and she pointed out Ron could have asked her at any time.”

Draco shook his head. “They going to get their act together?”

“No idea,” Harry said, “but I don’t think Ron would be good for Hermione anyway, really. He doesn’t even respect the things she likes.”

“True,” Draco considered. “We should keep an eye out for someone on her intellectual level.”

Harry laughed. “Are we going to set her up with someone ‘suitable’?”

“She’s not really a muggleborn,” Draco observed. “I suspect she’s probably a Dagworth-Granger descendant. That family is known for its potions-making, but it fell to Squibs about a century ago. It was suspected at the time that they’d been experimenting with a potion or twelve that went wrong and led to that particular magical repercussion.”

“How do you know this stuff?” Harry wondered.

Draco shrugged. “We have a large library at the manor and I get bored easily.”

Harry shook his head and laughed a little. “Well, if I have questions about anything wizarding, I’ll know who to ask first.”

“I hope you do,” Draco said and took Harry’s hand. “As to your original question, I don’t mind. Just, slowly, maybe?”

Harry squeezed Draco’s fingers and leaned forward to press a chaste kiss on Draco’s lips. “How about dinner?” he asked his breath mingling with Draco’s. “We’ll sit together, maybe among the Durmstrang or Beauxbatons group?”

“I like that plan,” Draco said, moving to press his body along Harry’s. “Won’t be obvious, but will be together. Flirt, snark, in relatively neutral territory.”

“The Gryffindors would go crazy if you sat with me,” Harry said, nuzzling into the space under Draco’s ear.

“And the Slytherins would be fine if we announced the courting. But there might be--oh, right there, wow--some who would be worried about their family’s reactions to your sitting with us,” Draco said breathlessly.

Harry gently bit the tender skin over Draco’s jugular. “You could announce the courting in house tomorrow if things go well tonight,” he murmured.

“Merlin, we need a chaperone.” Draco gripped Harry’s hips with both hands and leaned into his partner’s mouth. “We’re not going to meet the chastity-until-betrothal part of the contract if we don’t, will we?”

“Hmmm.” Harry bit the other side of Draco’s neck. “We’ll just have to get betrothed earlier than planned, then.”

“You cheeky Gryffindor,” Draco said breathlessly and pulled Harry’s head up so that he could claim the younger boy’s mouth in a deep kiss, adding tongue. They both shuddered, battling for dominance in a way that felt delicious. Draco felt himself teetering on the cusp of orgasm without even touching and wrenched himself away. “Shite. Shite.”

“What?” Harry asked, concerned. 

“I almost came,” Draco admitted. “That would definitely be a contract violation. We’d have to get betrothed immediately.”

“And we should probably wait at least 24 hours after signing the courting contract before we do that?” 

“Probably.”

Harry laughed and raised a hand to Draco’s cheek. “Let’s go up then. See you at dinner?”

“I’ll sit next to Krum and make Weasley jealous,” Draco confirmed.

Harry rolled his eyes and led the way up and out into the passageway.

…

Dinner played out beautifully.

Draco sat next to Viktor Krum, as he’d suggested, and Harry sat across from Krum. Close, but not close enough to give the game away.

Krum, for his part, only grunted at the addition of the two young men to his table, nodding briefly to Harry. Harry smiled and beckoned Hermione over, as well, which made Krum perk up a little and had the added benefit of making Ron turn a terrible shade of red.

Draco leaned forward. “Are you trying to make Ron apoplectic?”

Harry shrugged. “It’s an interesting side effect. I’m still sort of mad over his recent attitude.”

“And that makes two of us,” Hermione said briskly as she sat down next to Harry. “Hello, Viktor.”

“Her-my-own-ee,” Krum articulated carefully and smiled. “I am glad you sat with us.” He nodded toward Harry. “Your friend?”

“Yes, of course,” Hermione said and looked across to Draco. “Malfoy.”

“Granger,” Draco acknowledged, as Theo sat next to him. “Theo.”

“Draco,” Theo said. “Granger. Potter. Krum.”

Harry rolled his eyes a little but straightened up properly. “Draco. Nott. Krum. Hermione.”

Hermione started to giggle a little. “Harry. Nott.”

Krum looked around. “We are introducing ourselves, yes?”

“Well, acknowledging each other per protocol,” Draco said. 

“In which case, it’s curious that Harry acknowledged Malfoy by his first name,” Hermione observed. “I read those books, too, you know.”   
“I thought you would,” Draco admitted. “I’m thankful you let Harry read them first.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “It was a close thing, but they weren’t my gift.” She drew a breath. “Right. Heir Malfoy, you may call me Hermione.”   
“Thank you. I’m Draco,” he said simply, and Theo chimed in. “And I’m Theo. To all of you.”

“I’m Harry,” Harry said with a small shrug. You’re all welcome to use it.”

“Viktor,” Krum said. “That is everyone,  _ ja _ ?”

“I believe so, yes,” Draco said. “What’s for dinner?”

Dinner, it appeared, consisted of cleverly made over leftovers from the previous night’s ball. Harry settled on pork chops and mashed potatoes, with a side of roasted carrots, and Draco went for roast chicken and dressing. 

As everyone started eating, Hermione started quietly chatting with Krum, and Harry looked at Draco over his water goblet.

“Have a good afternoon, then, Draco?” he asked innocently.

“I did,” Draco said. “Got some paperwork done. Wrote my mother. Finished my Charms essay. Yourself?”   
“Caught up on some family reading,” Harry said. “Wrote my godfather. Thought about my intended a lot.”

“Oh, did you?” Draco said, about to add something cheeky.

Hermione interrupted. “Your intended? Harry, what on earth are you talking about?”

“I thought you were talking to Krum, er. Viktor,” Harry said.

“I was until I heard that.” Hermione gave him a Look. “Spill.”

“Later, ‘Mione,” Harry said, and looked back at Draco, who gave a slow grin. 

Hermione jolted, then covered her mouth with both hands. “ _ Are you kidding me?” _ The words came out with enough of a hiss that Draco briefly considered whether the Dagworth-Grangers had parselmouths in their ancestry. 

“Haven’t said anything yet, now have I?” Harry said reasonably and gave Draco a slow grin of his own.

“Oh. My.” Hermione seemed flummoxed, but Viktor, whose age made him a little more experienced in such things, had caught the subtext. 

“Ah,” he said. “You are courting?”

Harry smiled, nodded, and said, “Of course not, he’s a Slytherin.”

“As if I’d be caught dead with a Gryffindor,” Draco sniffed, then grinned widely.

Theo rolled his eyes. “So that’s how we’re playing this? Lovely. Hermione, I suggest we start the pool on whether and when they’re outed officially within our houses.”

Hermione, who, to be fair, still looked a bit flummoxed, nodded absently. “Right, of course. The twins usually hold the books in Gryffindor; I’ll start the pool. I’ll also check to see who won the … ah.”

“Who won the what, Hermione?” Harry asked darkly.

Hermione blushed. “Yes, well. There’s a pool about when you two might get together, whether you’d actually give in to the UST. There’s a chart with months, dates, and incidences, actually.”

“We’ve got one, too,” Theo added, to Draco’s surprise. “Once they formally announce, we’ll distribute funds.”

Harry and Draco looked at each other. “Did you know about this?” Harry asked.

“Not at all,” Draco responded, and looked ‘round at their friends. “So who won?”

“That depends. We’ve got date of first kiss, date of courting contract, date of betrothal, and date of wedding on the books right now. I talked Seamus out of adding first shag because that’s really none of our business,” Hermione said briskly. “May I know when all this --” she gestured vaguely to Harry and Draco “--happened?”

“Courting contract was signed during the ball last night,” Harry said softly. “First kiss followed shortly thereafter. Nothing else applies just now, but we’d like to keep the faculty, at any rate, out of the loop for a bit. I don’t particularly trust anybody at the moment, given the circumstances of my entry into the tournament.”

Viktor leaned forward. “You did not enter yourself, did you?”

Harry shook his head negatively and looked resigned.

Viktor leaned back. “Is a travesty. I apologise.”

Harry looked surprised. “For what?”

“For my disbelief,” Viktor said. “I will do what I can to fix this in my own school.”

Hermione looked pleased, and Harry quirked a small grin. “Appreciated,” he said, “but unnecessary. People will choose to believe what they like about me. Opinions change from minute to minute, and the public is fickle.” The blasé way this was said led Draco to snort.

“Could you sound any more like a Muggle movie star?” he asked, restraining the giggle that threatened.

Harry turned a bored look on him. “It is a burden to be this famous,” he said, making everyone crack up, even as Draco knew the statement held more than a grain of truth.

Viktor, the only other person at the table with any experience with fame, shook his head. “It is funny because it is true,” he grumbled. “But, at least, we can make sure no false claims on your honour are spread further. You have my word.”

Harry sobered quickly. “Thank you, Viktor.”

Viktor shrugged, and the table fell to silence for a moment as Draco picked up his fork, and the others followed to finish eating.

As talk picked up again, the conversation turned, inevitably, to Quidditch, with Hermione rolling her eyes as the three Seekers at the table started talking about technique. Theo, in an effort to keep her in the conversation, asked her a question about Ancient Runes, sending the pair into a spiral of increasingly hard-to-follow discussion about Elder Futhark. Neither she nor Theo noticed that the Quidditch conversation had tapered off, nor that Viktor had begun to look at Hermione with a small, indulgent smile.

Draco looked at Harry. “Well, then. That’s us out.”

Harry laughed. “Guess so.”

“Share a treacle tart?” Draco asked.

“Why not?” Harry said, and reached for the dish.

…

Draco had hoped that dinner with his intended, even if with other friends, would send a clear signal that Harry Potter was not his enemy, at the very least.

Therefore, he wasn’t surprised that his housemates took notice. 

He was, however, taken aback at the flurry of activity in the common room after dinner that centred around the House betting book, activity that stilled when he walked into the room. The book itself disappeared, and his housemates assumed blank expressions and busy hands almost seamlessly, but it was too late.

Draco pondered for a moment, then decided to be oblivious as he walked back into his dorm room.

His pause drew notice, but his was the sort of House where subtext was everything, and he was unsurprised to hear the activity pick back up the minute he stepped into the dungeon corridor toward the dorms.

He grinned to himself and headed back to write a note to his intended.

_ Dearest, _

_ Well, that walk into the common room was fun. I love making a spectacle. I chose not to say anything though. How did it go in Gryffindor?  _

_ I loved having dinner with you, but I think I’d love it even more if we could sit next to each other. Maybe that can be our next statement? _

_ Yours, _

_ Draco _

“Dobby!” Draco called, and he handed the sealed paper to the little elf when he appeared. “Please take that to Harry.”

“Dobby will do!” The house-elf popped away, and Draco sat back in his chair.

He didn’t have to wait for long before another note popped onto his desk. 

_ Breakfast? Slytherin table? Make the Gryffindors crazy? _

Oh, he really needed to get a two-way journal for Harry, too. He scribbled a “Perfect!” on the back of the note and called out, “Dobby?”

Dobby popped back in with a huff. “Dobby is not an owl, Master Draco.”

“I know, I know. I’m going to ask Mother for another journal set. But please?” He held out the note to Dobby, who took it, rolled his big eyes, and disappeared with a crack.

Draco grinned and got ready for bed.

...

He snagged Theo on the way through the common room in the morning to walk with him to the Great Hall for breakfast.

“And what is the plan for today?” Theo enquired, hurrying next to Draco, who was moving with long strides down the hall.

“Harry’s going to sit with us in Slytherin and set the cat among the pigeons,” Draco said calmly. “We’re not confirming or denying anything yet, mind. Just. Well. I think we’d both like to see what happens.”

Theo shook his head. “The pair of you are going to be a menace together, aren’t you?”

Draco gave a Cheshire grin, and they slipped into the Hall. Harry was just coming down the stairs with Neville and Hermione, and he looked up, grinned, and waved the pair off to the Gryffindor table before heading over to Draco.

“Good morning,” he greeted him and held out a hand.

Draco smirked. “Good morning.” He took it, and the pair of them walked leisurely to the Slytherin table, revelling in the gasps and whispers that grew around them as they took seats, with Theo on Harry’s other side to provide a buffer.

Harry winced a little when he heard a Weasley screech coming from the direction of the Gryffindor table but resolutely did not turn around to see which Weasley it was. Blaise Zabini, across from them, leaned forward. “Ginny,” he said quietly, and Harry acknowledged the phrase with a nod as he pulled the platter of sausages toward his plate.

“Coffee, dear?” Draco asked sweetly. “Or tea?”

“Ah, tea, please, darling,” Harry said, just as sweetly. Theo rolled his eyes, and Blaise started grinning widely.

“Now, who’s won the pool?” Blaise asked just loud enough for their section of the table to hear.

“Which one?” Draco asked. “Because we signed a courting contract during the Yule ball. Kissed shortly thereafter. Though we are attempting to make the Gryffindors’ heads explode and would prefer not to clue in faculty to how official this is for some time yet.”

“You’re likely to make Snape’s head explode,” Blaise grumbled wickedly. “He’s about to stare daggers into you, Draco.”

“Let him,” Draco shrugged, nonchalantly handing Harry his tea. Harry took it, sipped it, and with a surreptitious glance in Snape’s direction, muttered, “Let’s go ahead and make his head explode. We’re well-chaperoned at the moment, yes?”

Draco grinned. “Yes.”

Harry set his tea down, and he turned to Draco. He framed Draco’s face with his hands, leaned in, and chastely kissed him.

“Oh my God, I think Snape just had a stroke,” Blaise mumbled. “He just went red, then white, and now, oh, shite, he’s coming this way.”

“There’s a distinct lack of exploding,” Harry said, his tone disappointed, and drew back from Draco just as Snape appeared behind them.

“What is the meaning of this?” Snape asked angrily.

Harry and Draco looked at each other, communicating silently until Draco said, “I believe my boyfriend just kissed me. That was what that was, right?”

“I believe so,” Harry said. “That’s what I thought that was. Kissing is a thing we do now, right?”

“Yes, yes, I think so,” Draco said. 

“Perhaps do so privately,” Snape said, grinding his teeth. “And your father will hear about this, Draco.”

“Of course, professor,” Draco said politely, enjoying the snorts and snickers he could hear running up and down the table. 

“Potter, detention.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“A public display of affection in the Great Hall. I will see you tonight, in the potions room, at 7 p.m., sharp.”

“I shall be there,” Draco said, “as any punishment given to my boyfriend should also be given to me.”

Snape’s jaw dropped, working impotently.

“Severus, what’s all this?” Dumbledore came up behind him.

“The professor just gave Harry a detention for kissing me, his boyfriend, in the Great Hall, and he is apparently surprised that I’m choosing to take it as well,” Draco explained. “After all, I was a willing participant.”   
“Quite so,” Dumbledore agreed. “Although I do believe a detention is not the right course of action in this case.” He waved around, and the couple’s attention was drawn to at least three other couples kissing chastely. “We don’t have any rules against a chaste kiss in public, Severus.”

“Fine,” Snape gritted out. “No detention.” He spun on his heel and his robes flared dramatically around him as he left the room.

Dumbledore peered over his glasses at him. “All well here, then, boys?” he asked.

“Yes, professor,” Harry said. Draco echoed him.

“Well, then, it’s nice to see the pair of you, er, getting along,” Dumbledore said, and strolled away.

Harry and Draco looked at each other. “That was unexpected,” Harry murmured.

“Indeed,” Draco agreed and pursed his lips. 

…

The pair agreeably broke off after breakfast to find a suitable space to snog in and took Theo and Hermione along to chaperone. With minimal fuss, they settled on the Room of Requirement and began to head that direction when suddenly interrupted by the Weasley twins, who had an air of importance.

“Right, gentlemen,” Fred said, producing a large red book from the thin air, “first kiss?”

“Night of the Yule Ball,” Harry said.

“Formal contract or no?” George asked, pretending to polish spectacles.

“Yes,” Draco said. “Courting, signed the night of the Yule Ball.”

“Which came first? Contract or kiss?” Fred asked, scribbling.

“Contract,” Harry confirmed, amused.

Fred hummed as he worked his way down a list. “Courting gift?”

Harry smiled darkly. “The Black promise ring.”

George whistled. “Well, that’s a gesture, all right.” 

Fred peered at them over the book. “Feeling particularly amorous, are you? How long are you likely to make it before giving in to your base desires and being automatically betrothed?”

Theo, of all people, rolled his eyes. “I’m on the books in Slytherin for forty-eight hours, actually.”

Hermione agreed. “The UST is pretty intense.”

“I’d give you odds on that one,” Fred said, and George looked over his shoulder. “Looks like Ron won the kiss bet.”

Harry gave a start. “What?”

“Oh, he’s not as oblivious as he looks, sometimes. He’s got you down for kissing at the Yule Ball, but seems to think it’s not going to be a permanent anything, as he’s down for no courting contract,” George said, frowning. 

“Right, that doesn’t surprise me,” Harry mumbled. 

“Recognises the UST, doesn’t think I’m worth his mate’s time,” Draco said dryly. “Lovely.”

“Well, did anyone win the courting contract bet?” Hermione asked, eagerly.

“Since you’re asking, you know it’s not you.” Fred grinned at her. “Surprisingly high number of folks went for ‘courting contract,’ but only one came close to ‘at the Yule Ball.’”

“And that was?” Harry asked, curious.

“Professor McGonagall, actually.” George made jazz hands.

Both Harry and Draco gave the twins quizzical expressions. 

“She’s been on the books for courting by the Yule holiday of fourth year since about midway through your first year, gents,” Fred said gently. “We’re sort of obligated to tell her she’s won, but if you’d like, we can ask her to keep it under her hat?”

Harry and Draco looked at each other, and Draco gave a tiny nod.

“Yeah, all right,” Harry said. “We’ll go talk to her ourselves later.”

“Pleasure, gentlemen,” Fred said importantly, vanished the book, and walked off with George.

**Chapter 4**

Later, as it developed, took its time about coming. In class, Professor McGonagall gave no indication she knew anything at all about the couple, and Harry and Draco decided they’d just roll with it.

Anyone who paid attention could tell the two were engaged in a romantic relationship. Slytherin knew the pair were courting, but as they hadn’t officially said anything, their bet remained on the books and the Slytherins kept quiet if asked. Gryffindor was aware that Ron had won the “kiss” bet, but Fred and George had been discreet about the matter of the courting contract.

The entire student body “knew,” but didn’t “know,” how official Draco and Harry had decided to be. A state of affairs that suited them both to the ground.

As the weeks passed to the Second Task, Harry got a little help from Draco with the golden egg. They met in the Room of Requirement at least once each day, and with Draco’s coaxing, Harry brought the egg along one cold evening toward the end of January.

“So that’s it, eh?” Draco said, taking it from his intended and examining it. 

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I opened it first thing, but it just shrieks a lot.”

“And it’s supposed to be a clue to the next task?” Draco dug his fingers into the lid and pulled it open. Shrieks filled the room. “Oh, that’s just uncalled for.” He closed it.

“Supposed to be a clue, yeah,” Harry said glumly.

“Then I think it likely that the shrieks are some sort of communication, right?” Draco said logically. “We just have to figure out which kind.”

“I’d sort of hoped you’d recognize it,” Harry admitted.

“Well, I don’t, unfortunately.” Draco set the egg down on the small table the room had conjured for them. “But, we do have some options for deciphering it.”

“Such as, oh learned one?”

“Well, we could record it and play it back at different speeds, for one,” Draco said. “Mum said there was some weird Muggle invention that people used to do that and a big scandal.”

“Oh, right,” Harry said. “Playing some rock and roll music backwards made people think it was the devil’s language. Weird, right?”

“Definitely,” Draco said. “And much too complicated. And now I think much too Muggle--no one would have expected wizarding students to come up with that.”

“No. So that means it must be some sort of magical cypher? Or language?” Harry posited.

“Oh, language,” Draco nodded. “That’s logical, well done. So what languages sound like that?”

A book appeared on the table next to the egg, and Draco’s eyebrows rose.

“ _ Water, Water, Everywhere, and No Consonants to be Found: A Comprehensive Guide to Languages of the Deep. _ Huh. Thanks, room.” Draco picked it up and flipped through it, then turned a page to face Harry. “Mermish.”

“Mermish.” Harry paled. “Draco, are there merpeople?”   
“Of course,” Draco said. “I believe there’s a colony under the lake.”

“Of course,” Harry echoed. “How on earth was I meant to know that?”

“Doesn’t everybody know that?” Draco asked. He looked at Harry, nonplussed.

Harry took a deep breath. “No, Draco. Muggles actually think merpeople are the stuff of fantasy stories. So, the language is Mermish. So, how do we listen to it? Dunk it in water or something?”

A large aquarium-style tank filled with water appeared in the middle of the room, which had grown to accommodate it.

“I’m guessing that’s a yes,” Draco said and picked up the egg before holding it out to Harry. “I’d open it underwater if I were you.”

“Right,” Harry said, wandering over to the tank. “Here goes.” He lowered the egg into the water and opened it.

Faint rumbling could be heard above the water.

“I think, maybe, you might need to put your head in the water,” Draco added helpfully.

“Lovely,” Harry muttered. “I don’t even know how to swim.” He took a deep breath, and plunged his head in for a few seconds, before heaving himself back out and taking a deep breath. “It sounds like singing.”

Draco rummaged in his book bag and took out a piece of parchment and a quill. “Right, then, have a listen, tell me what it’s saying, and I’ll write it down.”

So it went, Harry putting his head underwater to listen, then popping up to give Draco a few bars of the rhyme. It didn’t take long until they had the whole thing, and then Harry pulled the egg from the water. The tank disappeared, and a pile of fluffy towels appeared in its place.

“I love this room,” Harry commented, pulling up a towel to dry off the egg before grabbing another to rub his wild hair dry. “Though I’m regretting not taking my shirt off before I did that, now.”

“Here,” Draco said, muttering the drying charm and directing his wand. “I’ll help with that.” The warm air wafted over Harry’s torso, drying the material that had begun to cling to him like a second skin. “Though, for the record, I liked what I saw.”

Harry blushed.

Draco smirked.

Clearing his throat, Harry nodded at the parchment Draco had been working on. “So, what have we got?”

“Sounds like they plan to take something from you, hide it under the lake, and get you to retrieve it in under an hour,” Draco mused. “So we need to figure out what they’ll take, and what the penalty will be.”

“Also, how I’m going to breathe underwater, and, oh, this is the big one: How am I going to learn to swim in less than a month?” Harry asked glumly.

“I’ll write Mum,” Draco said absently, digging in his backpack. “You should write Sirius, too, to see if he has any ideas. As for the swimming thing? Eh. I’ll help you learn. We’ve got a pond at the Manor that I spend half my summers in.”

“That would be great,” Harry said. “But where? I don’t fancy swimming in the lake at this time of year. Which raises another point, actually.”

Draco blinked, slowly. “Right, the cold. Well, that’s a problem. I’m definitely writing Mum.” He pulled out what he was looking for. “Oh, and this is for you.” He handed Harry a journal bound in navy leather. “It’s part of a set. You write in that one, and I can answer you. I have its twin.”

Harry took the journal. “That’s handy.”

“Yes, and as Dobby was so kind to tell me, he’s not an owl, and apparently he’s getting a bit tired of acting like one for us,” Draco said briskly. “He’s right, anyway. And this will be easier.”

Harry stepped forward and cupped Draco’s face. “Thank you, darling.” He laid a chaste kiss on Draco’s lips. “I mean that sincerely.”

Darling, again. Draco liked.

…

After some back and forth over the following week, the pair discovered that Sirius did indeed have a couple of ideas about how to get Harry past whatever he needed to get to his prize. He recommended, first, a bubble-headed charm, and second, a Muggle-style wetsuit.

“For warmth,” he said, speaking to Harry over a specially enchanted mirror of his own invention, sent hastily when he’d gotten Harry’s letter about the second task. “You’ll stay warm, you’ll be able to breathe. It’s just the swimming part that I worry about.”

“You and me both,” Harry mumbled. He cleared his throat. “Draco said he’ll be glad to teach me, but we’re coming up short on places to go to learn.”

“Have you thought about asking the Room for a pool?” Sirius asked. 

“We did, and we get kind of a single-lane lap pool. I mean, it’s working for the basics. I can sort of float now. But I’m really not a strong swimmer and I don’t see how I can become one in only a few weeks. And if they’re taking ‘something precious’ from me, I don’t want to be weak in any way going after it,” Harry said.

Sirius nodded, visibly thinking through the problem. “Right, well, it sounds like, if we can, we should see if we can find something that will allow you both accelerated swimming skills and the ability to breathe underwater. I’ll do some digging, too.”

“Thanks, Siri,” Harry said.

“No problem, pup,” Sirius said. “Hang in there.”

They disconnected, and Draco, who’d been quietly listening, called, “Dobby!”

The little elf popped up. “You needs Dobby?”

“I was wondering if you’d have any idea where we could go to help Harry learn to swim better, or, failing that, know of where we might be able to find him a way to swim and breathe underwater.”

Dobby rolled his eyes. “You be needing gillyweed, Master Draco. Gives you fins and flippers, lets you breathe.”

“Oh, of course,” Draco said, shaking his head at himself. “Gillyweed would do the trick. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Master Draco be thinking with his pants and not his brain,” Dobby said primly. “Master Draco likes helping Master Harry learn to swim.”

Draco blushed. The elf wasn’t wrong.

Harry blushed, too, but said, “Thank you, Dobby.”

Dobby nodded and popped out.

Draco coughed a little, then said, “We have time to buy or gather some. It’s a plant that, when eaten, gives the person who ate the ability to swim and breathe underwater. It’s kind of slimy. We grow it on the pond at the Manor, and I’ve played around with it before.”

“So can we get some from your mother?” Harry asked.

“Dunno,” Draco replied, “I’ll have to ask if it’s in season. Likely not; I haven’t seen it growing in winter before. But we can get some through Jiggers.”

“The apothecary?”

“Yeah, they’ll have it. It’s a rarer ingredient, but it’s used in some healing potions,” Draco said. “I’ll write Mum.”

“Fantastic,” Harry said, letting out a breath. “Still, we should probably keep up with the swim lessons. You know. It’s a good skill to have.”   
“And being half-naked with me has nothing to do with it?” Draco asked flirtily.

“A tiny bit,” Harry allowed. “A trifle, really.”

Draco laughed.

The pair had managed to keep their hands to themselves, mostly, though spending so much half-naked time alone certainly didn’t help their efforts. Laying hands on a wet, slippery Harry did not do much for Draco’s self-control. It was, honestly, the best kind of tease.

Still, Draco set that thought aside and focused on the other half of the problem. “Now, what might they take from you?”

The problem, it appeared, was that Harry really didn’t have a lot of things that were precious to him. His broom, yes. Hedwig. But otherwise, as Harry had pointed out to him, what he had were clothes and schoolbooks. Things that could easily be replaced.

“An owl wouldn’t survive underwater,” Draco mused. “And I can’t see them taking a broom either.”

“Unless…” Harry said, thinking. “Unless they mean not to take a thing.”

Draco’s eyebrows rose. “If not a thing … do you think they’ll take a person?”

“They could spell a person safe under the water, I assume?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded, slowly. “Yes. Yes, that makes sense.” He bit a lip, not noticing how Harry’s eyes followed the motion. “But who?”   
“Who’s most precious to me?” Harry asked quietly. He came forward and took Draco’s hands. “You have to know that’s you.”

Draco smiled softly, and squeezed Harry’s hands gently. “Same.” He drew a deep breath. “But do they know that?”

“What, the organisers?” Harry asked. “I think everyone in school knows we’re seeing each other. I guess it depends upon how they make that call. Is it magical? Or common-sense?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “What is this thing they call ‘common sense’? If there’s a magical way, they’ll use it.”

“Which means it’s most likely you in the water,” Harry said.

Draco used their joined hands to draw Harry closer and lay a chaste kiss on his lips. “Probably.” He hesitated, then said, “You could put a tracking charm on me.”

Harry drew back a little. “A tracking charm?”

“It would let you know where I am, at all times,” Draco said quietly. “You tie them to an object, like a piece of jewellery, and it tells you where I am and whether I’m well. It would help you find me in the lake. It might make you less mental while you’re searching if you can tell that I’m OK.”

“I don’t like this,” Harry said. “I don’t like this at all.”

“I’m not a fan, either,” Draco admitted. “Mum will not be happy. I don’t imagine anyone thought about getting something like parental permission for hostages.”

“Of course not.” Harry sighed. “Their ‘not asking for permission’ is why I currently have a Lordship ring on my finger.”   
“There’s that, yes,” Draco said and gave a sigh of his own. “Right, we’re running out of time.” He kissed Harry again, gently. “I’ll go back to my dorm and write Mum. I’ll write you when I get her answer.”

“I’ll call Siri again when I get back to my room,” Harry pledged. “Let him know what we’ve figured out.”

“Right, that’s a plan.” Draco kissed him again. And again.

Just for the hell of it.

…

_ Dear Mum, _

_ Well, we think we’ve figured some things out. First, we need gillyweed. If we have none fresh at the pond, could you please pick some up for us from Jiggers? It will allow Harry to breathe and give him an advantage in the water, as he’s really not a strong swimmer at all. _

_ Secondly, we think that what they’ll take is a hostage. We think they’re going to take what Harry would miss most. And for him, he says, that’s me. _

_ Mum, I think they’re going to take me hostage for the second task.  _

_ Harry offered the idea that they’d use common sense to choose hostages, but we both think that it’s more likely they’ll use a magical artefact to determine the best choice, and that puts me squarely on target. _

_ I’ve offered to allow him to put a tracking charm on me. Do you have anything we can use as a focus object? Maybe something intended to be mine, anyway? _

_ Harry plans to fill in Sirius, so if he’s already been in touch, feel free to conspire amongst yourselves. _

_ With love, _

_ Draco _

…

_ My dear Dragon, _

_ Look for a package in the post tomorrow. It contains enough gillyweed for two hours, your usual sweets, and a silver bracelet set with three stones. One is a diamond, one is an emerald, and one is a ruby. If you tether the tracking charm to it, the stones will glow--the diamond for your good health, the ruby for imminent death or danger, and the emerald for moderate danger.  _

_ Essentially, my son, it will tell Harry you need help and pull him in your direction if the green or red stones are glowing with the phrase, “Draconis.” _

_ I purchased it with this in mind yesterday. It was new, but I cleansed it anyway, so it should be ready for Harry’s spellwork.  _

_ I appreciate your warning regarding the second task, and I’ve spoken to your father about it. He and I will attend. I know that we have been struggling of late, but your father does love you, and he plans to be present should you be in danger and require saving. I have pointed out that you are courting a powerful young Gryffindor, and will likely not need his assistance, but he insists on being present, anyway. I do not believe he intends Harry harm; in fact, he has said, under the influence of a truth serum, that your betrothal and bonding to Harry Potter would be excellent news for House Malfoy. However, his mark grows ever darker, and we both worry that Lucius’ will is not going to be his own for much longer. You know that the mark makes slaves of His followers, taking away their free will. I am confident that your father will act in the family’s best interest for as long as he is able. _

_ Oh, but I digress, Dragon. I will keep your father under control; you will do your part and keep yourself as safe as you can. Never forget we love you. _

_ Mum _

_ … _

_ Harry, _

_ Mum is sending us a bracelet to use for the tracking charm. Same time, same place tomorrow evening? _

_ She also says that when in control of himself, Lucius is on board with our courting, and that he plans to be on hand at the second task to “help” if necessary. Never trust my father, Harry; you know this better than most. He is Slytherin to the core and under the wanker’s influence. But he is fierce in defence of his family, so I believe he will assist if he’s able. _

_ I really want to believe in my father again, Harry. It’s painful to know that he’s just not the same man I idolised as a child. _

_ Well, that’s probably enough of my whining, at any rate. _

_ With love, _

_ Dragon _

_ … _

_ Dragon, _

_ Same time, same place, confirmed. _

_ And no, it’s not whining, Draco. I want to know your deepest thoughts. I understand what it is to idolise a parent. Everyone seems to idolise mine. But I just wish they were here, you know? Would they be proud of me? I’m told so, but I will never know so, and that hurts. _

_ I’m sorry your parent has disappointed you so much. _

_ I love you. _

_ Harry. _

…

In the press of business surrounding the tournament, Draco had almost forgotten that Harry was awaiting the results of an audit on his vaults through Gringotts. It wasn’t until Harry turned up for their standard after-dinner “date” in the Room of Requirement the first week of February, looking distinctly disgruntled, that Draco remembered it.

“What happened to make you look so,” he gestured in a general way and made a face. “Not that you don’t always look good, Harry, but you’ve got a pretty grumpy face on.”

“I got the preliminary results of the audits on my vaults,” Harry said, flopping himself down on a couch that obligingly lengthened itself and grew more plush. “I’m not happy at all.”

Draco’s eyebrows rose as he took a seat on the end by Harry’s feet, collecting them in his lap. “Do tell.”

“I have businesses in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley that haven’t paid rent in fourteen years,” Harry said plainly, covering his eyes with both hands, mumbling into his palms. “Apparently, they didn’t know where to direct the funds. Some attempted anyway, placing the rents in a separate vault, while others just apparently wrote off their obligations. I’ve either got to kick some businesses out or get them to pay up within a reasonable amount of time. And, to boot, there have been multiple attempts to get at my money while I wasn’t in charge of it.” He dragged his hands down his face and looked at Draco. “One of those who attempted it was Dumbledore.”

Draco opened his mouth, closed it. Then he cleared his throat. “Would you like me to say something well-meaning but ultimately meaningless, something comforting, or something mean? I have possible responses prepared for all three possibilities.”

Harry stared at him for a moment, then started laughing. Draco grinned, too, as his intended’s laughs died to chuckles and snorts, but he remained quiet. He’d asked the question, after all, and still needed the answer. 

Harry wiped his eyes, and took Draco’s hand. “I love you more with each passing day,” he said earnestly. “Please do feel free to be as mean as you’d like about the utter bastards who’ve been trying to steal from me.”

“Dumbledore is a first-class wanker who needs to be shunted out of every so-called position of power he currently holds, and he ought to be held accountable legally for every cent he’s tried to steal from an orphaned wizard who is the last of his line,” Draco said, firmly. “I don’t care if he had good reason or not--and I’m guessing not--there’s no excuse.”

Harry nodded. “He set up a stipend to the Dursleys, which, fine, I get that. Apparently there is a procedure for that through the bank, but he had no authority to do so. The bank employee who allowed it is facing an inquiry at the moment. The fact that the same employee did not allow Dumbledore to withdraw funds or items from the Potter vaults when the request was made, will probably go in his favour. And it’s all sort of a grey area, anyway, as Sirius was actually my magical guardian and couldn’t actually help me from his position in prison.”

“A position he wouldn’t have been in if not for Dumbledore,” Draco pointed out, fanning the flames. “As Chief Warlock, he could push for a trial. He should have pushed for a trial. Even if he didn’t know who the Secret Keeper was, which I doubt.”

Harry took that in, then sat up straight, his eyes burning with righteous fire. “You’re absolutely right. Why has no one yet pointed that out?”

“You could,” Draco said, reasonably. “You could take your seats at the next session and raise that very question.”

Harry stood up and began to pace. “Sirius is considering making a public appearance at the next Wizengamot himself, but if I can go myself, he might not need to take the risk. He’s still wanted, right? If I go, take my seats and stand proxy for the House of Black …”

“Perhaps with my mother’s backing and support?” Draco suggested. “She’s probably the most publicly visible member of House Black aside from your godfather at this point. The elders have mostly backed away from public life, especially after Arcturus died.”

“Arcturus?”

“The former Lord Black,” Draco explained. “Sirius’ paternal grandfather. He died about ten years ago.”

“So House Black has been sort of drifting ever since?” Harry mused. “I don’t think I quite understood why Sirius claiming the ring was so important.”

Draco nodded. “Most of the House thought the ring would pass to me eventually, as I’m the only boy born in this generation of Blacks and Mum is a direct descendant of Arcturus. I mean, he was my great-grandfather. But it’s been in limbo as Sirius was in Azkaban and he had a better claim.”

“Interesting.” Harry continued to pace, then stopped dead and sighed, deeply. “We’ve got to get him a trial.”

“Well, then, let’s build a plan,” Draco said, and the pair put their heads together.

  
  


**Chapter 5**

  
  


Draco decided he’d better start some lists because he and Harry had several balls in the air they could not afford to drop. Sirius needed a trial. Harry needed to learn to swim. The second task would likely pull Draco into the water, too, so they both needed Muggle wetsuits. 

Warming charms would do, too, Draco thought, but why waste the magic? Sirius, fortunately, had a source in mind.

The courtship was going nicely. Officially, they were in the getting-to-know-you stage, which would be followed by betrothal if they so chose.

Unofficially, they knew each other well enough that they’d been hard-pressed not to activate the automatic betrothal clauses. Draco lost count of how many times they’d had to separate and head to their own quarters before a mutual orgasm might have happened. He idly wondered if that clause was meant to test for sexual compatibility, or if magic wanted to join those who were meant to be. Magic worked on intent, after all; forced sexual contact between a courting couple would negate the contract out of hand. 

Maybe, Draco thought, the originators of such contracts had too much experience with horny 14-year-olds. An automatic betrothal under those conditions would dampen enthusiasm in pairs who weren’t sure about permanence at 14.

Well. That wasn’t really an issue for Harry and him, was it? His intended was hot, smart, cunning, and ridiculously powerful. Draco would have to be utterly straight and utterly stupid not to be into him.

Fortunately for them both, Draco was neither. His family backed his play, and Harry, with his ridiculously romantic and over-the-top courting gift, made it clear that he thought the partnership could last.

Given the givens, Draco would be happy to mess around with his intended.

If his intended would cooperate, that is.

Unfortunately for Draco, Harry would never let them get too far, citing his perfectly reasonable stance that they should wait until they were ready for the official notice of betrothal to be published in The Prophet. That would happen automatically when it happened, and neither really wanted to put an end to their game of trolling Dumbledore.

Because it was, in fact, only Dumbledore who didn’t have a large clue at this point.

By Valentine’s Day, with the task just ten days away, the entire school knew that Draco and Harry were a couple. Fewer had it confirmed that they were a courting couple, but most everyone had come to that conclusion independently. Especially when the Weasley twins let it slip to the Gryffindor Gossip Queens--Parvati and Lavender Brown--that the bet on a courting contract had been paid out. They’d drawn their own conclusions, and spread the word.

Draco found it hilarious.

The only downside appeared to be Dumbledore’s assumption that their relationship wouldn’t or couldn’t be official, and that puzzled them both. Harry told Draco that Dumbledore had invited Harry to his office for tea, had mentioned that it was a fine thing to enjoy a young romance, but that such romances rarely lasted. Again, Dumbledore hadn’t brought up Harry’s Lordship, which Draco continued to find strange, and again, Dumbledore had counselled caution in his dealings with Draco.

Almost as if, Draco thought, Dumbledore thought he needed to warn Harry away from cultivating close relationships at his age. As Headmaster, Dumbledore really had no need to do so. He didn’t call in other students for chats over tea about their love lives, Draco considered.

So why did Dumbledore think it his duty?

The only conclusion Harry and Draco could come to did not make them happy. They believed it quite likely that Dumbledore believed himself to be Harry’s magical guardian. Though patently false, the evidence had begun to pile up: Dumbledore’s arrangement at the bank for payment to the Dursleys, his attempts to secure other funds from the Potter vaults, and his odd focus on Harry’s school activities made them suspicious. A magical guardian, however, ought to have stepped in with a child’s non-magical relatives if that child appeared to be poorly taken care of. Dumbledore hadn’t done that. In fact, he insisted that Harry go back to the Dursleys every summer.

More fool him, Draco privately thought, because Harry had no intention of doing so this summer. His intended had options and planned to use them. 

Still, the caution against getting too involved at his age made Draco curious. It could be genuine concern.

Or, it could be something more sinister.

Draco set that aside for at least one evening of romance on Valentine’s Day. While he knew anything physical was probably off the table, he saw no reason at all not to give his intended a gift and spoil him a bit. He arranged to have Harry meet him at the Room of Requirement after dinner, and slipped away from the crowded Great Hall quietly. 

By the time Harry reached the RoR, Draco had set it up with a comfortable sofa done in a plush gold velvet, some scattered red roses, and a glass table that featured Honeydukes chocolates and butterbeer. 

Harry paused on the threshold as he took the scene in. “Draco, what’s all this?”

“A gift for Valentine’s Day,” Draco said, smiling softly. “A little chocolate, a few flowers. Me on a plush surface.”

A deep rosy blush came to Harry’s cheeks. “Oh, boy, I already think we need a chaperone.”

Draco laughed a little but held out a hand to Harry. “Oh, I don’t think we want a voyeur. But I promise to stop before we, er. Well. I know we’re not ready to be betrothed publicly yet.” He pulled Harry to him with a little swirl and a dip that flustered the Lord Potter most obviously. “But I see no reason I can’t show you that I love you.” He bent to kiss Harry softly.

Harry gave a little hum and opened his mouth. Draco righted him so that he could grip that messy black hair with both hands and deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into his boyfriend’s mouth. Harry kissed him back, and the messy kiss--more of a battle really--began to smooth out as they learned the way of it together. Harry broke it reluctantly, then backed Draco toward the couch, seating him on it and straddling Draco’s lap before leaning back in. 

Draco ran his hands up Harry’s back as they gentled each other, kissing in long moments, pausing for breath, kissing again. Finally, Harry drew back a bit, taking a big gulp of air. 

“I’m going to need to look up charms for, er. What do you call it when you don’t want to come even though you really do want to come?” Harry asked. 

Draco pursed his lips. He was in the same boat. “I have no idea. Where would we even look?”

“We’re not asking your mum,” Harry said firmly. 

Draco shuddered. “Yeah, no.” He sat back in thought. “Would asking Sirius be too embarrassing?”

Harry tilted his head. “I don’t think there’s much I could ask that would shock him, no. Shall I?”

“Please do, love,” Draco said. “Then teach me. If we’re going to stay pure by terms of the betrothal contract, I think we’ll need a little help.” Then he grinned wickedly. “And I bet there are charms that could be a lot of fun later.”

Harry rolled his eyes but returned the wicked grin. “I’ll call Sirius later.”

“Right.” Draco kissed him quickly, then gently shunted him off his lap. “Chocolates. And romance. And no talk about anything stressful.”   
“Just us,” Harry agreed.

“Just us.” Draco handed Harry a butterbeer with the top popped off. 

…

_ Draco, _

_ These journals are awesome. So I talked to Sirius. It was a little embarrassing but he was cool about it after he stopped laughing. I have two charms for us. One is a charm he said acts like a “cock ring,” which is a kind of device that goes around your cock and balls to keep you from coming even when you really, really want to. He said it can lead to even bigger orgasms after you take it off, so it can be fun to play with in the future, too. The other one is basically a cold shower charm. He said most boys need to use that one on the regular as teens to keep from having hard-ons all the time. He’s pretty impressed we’ve managed without knowing that one yet. He showed me the wand movements and I practised, and yeah, they work. I’ll show you in the Room one night. Incantation for the cock ring charm is “Serrer”--but don’t do it to yourself until you see me show you, please. The cold shower charm is “Douche froid.” I asked him why they were in French and he smirked at me.  _

_ I really, really, am not sure I want to know now. _

_ Anyway. _

_ I love you. _

_ Just felt like saying it. _

_ Harry. _

_ … _

_ Harry, _

_ I always love hearing it. I love you, too. I look forward to “practising” with you. _

_ XXOO _

_ Draco _

_ … _

_ XXOO? _

_ … _

_ Hugs and kisses. _

_ … _

_ XXOO _

_ … _

But the problem of Dumbledore persisted. He said as much to Harry one evening while they were taking a break from Harry’s swimming lessons.

“I’m wondering if Dumbledore thinks, as your magical guardian, he has the right to dictate the terms of your betrothal,” Draco said casually.

“He’s not my magical guardian, though,” Harry pointed out, idly tracing a pattern on Draco’s knee.

“No, which means any attempts on his part to start a contract for you would fail,” Draco admitted. “He might not know that, though.”

“There was a light show when our contract was confirmed,” Harry pointed out. “Glowy, with automatic copies made and filed everywhere. Wouldn’t he know that his contract had failed on those grounds if he tried to make one?”

Draco shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. It sort of depends upon whether he’d ever taken part in the process himself. It tends to be private, so if he’s never done it, he wouldn’t know it. And he’s unmarried, so, odds are he didn’t complete the process if he ever did start it.”

“So, he’d, what, sign a contract, manually make copies, and keep one on file for himself without knowing where else they’d go?” Harry shook his head. “That seems pretty ignorant. And Dumbledore doesn’t seem ignorant to me.”

“Maybe he thinks he can get control of you now that Sirius is out of Azkaban,” Draco suggested. “Somehow guilt Sirius into giving up your magical guardianship so that Dumbledore can make decisions on your behalf.”

“Barking up the wrong tree, there,” Harry commented. “Sirius wouldn’t piss on him if he were on fire at this point, knowing what we do.”

True, they’d discovered that Dumbledore could have gotten Sirius a trial at any time, just by virtue of being Chief Warlock, and hadn’t. The formal petition they were filing on his behalf through a neutral office had been blocked already.

Twice.

“No, somehow I think this is still about controlling you for some reason,” Draco said. “He doesn’t want you to have permanent ties. He doesn’t want you to be independent. He doesn’t want you to take up your Lordship. But what does he get out of all of that?”

“I hate to be crass, but I’m guessing money and power,” Harry said glumly. “What else?”

“I think we need to answer that question, don’t we?” Draco said. “What else does Dumbledore gain from attempting to control you?”

…

That question began to haunt Draco’s thoughts as he and Harry made final preparations for the second task. The night before the event, Draco, along with Hermione and Cho Chang, were brought into the Headmaster’s office. 

“Ah, there you are,” Dumbledore said. “Welcome. I’m certain you’re wondering why we’ve brought you here.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, silent. The others looked around to see Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Madame Maxime, and Headmaster Karkaroff. A young blond girl, probably a relative of Fleur’s, Draco thought, looked up silently at the giantess. He guessed she’d had a more thorough explanation than the rest already.

“Tomorrow, our champions have been tasked with retrieving something of great importance to them from the merpeople under the Black Lake,” Dumbledore explained. “They will have precisely one hour, and their scores will be determined by how well and how quickly they manage to retrieve their goal. In this case, their goal, should you all agree, will be to retrieve each of you. Earlier this evening, the other judges and I cast a spell to determine the person who meant the most to our respective champions. Your names appeared next to your champions’ names. Of course, should you not agree, we will simply cast again. But if you do agree tonight, I will place you under a temporary enchantment that will keep you asleep, warm, and alive under the waters of the Black Lake. There, you will be guarded by the merpeople until your champion comes to ‘rescue’ you. Should your champion fail, the merpeople will ensure your safety until one of us can come to retrieve you.”

Hermione raised a hand, and Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he nodded to her. “Do our champions know they are about to retrieve a person, rather than an object?”

Dumbledore smiled. “If they deciphered the clue correctly, then, yes, they’ll have a strong hunch.”

“And we’re perfectly safe?” Cho asked from her position next to Hermione.

“Yes, of course.”

Draco pursed his lips, and asked, “Have our parents given permission for us to participate?”

Dumbledore’s twinkle dimmed slightly. “Well, no. We didn’t think it necessary as you all will be perfectly safe and on school grounds.”

“Ah, not to sound too much like my old self, but I’m almost positive my parents would prefer I not participate,” Draco said quietly. “And I can’t imagine any of the rest of yours would be all that happy about it, either.”

Hermione gave the Headmaster a hard look. “Our parents really should be involved in this decision, Headmaster.”

“I am the magical guardian of all Muggleborns in Hogwarts, as long as they are in school,” Dumbledore explained. “I can give permission for you to participate. I am de facto guardian of all Hogwarts students, in fact, while school is in session, and can give you all permission to participate, should you prefer it. Of course, if you’d like to decline, we can move to someone else on the list.”

And wouldn’t that sting, Draco thought, if their champions thought they didn’t value them equally in return. Dumbledore, you old bastard.

“As it happens,” Draco said, fingering the bracelet with the tracking charm imbued in it that he now wore at all times, “my champion and I worked out that this might be the scenario and are prepared for it. My parents are not thrilled with my participation but have left the decision to me. They will also be present in the audience tomorrow to assist in the event there’s a problem.”

At once, Draco could see a flash of irritation on Dumbledore’s face that was quickly hidden. “We’ll be pleased to see Lord and Lady Malfoy, of course.”

“My parents would hardly know what to do with themselves,” Hermione muttered. “But I give my consent, anyway. They’d probably prefer not to know, actually.”

Cho glanced up. “I’ll participate, but I’d prefer my parents be informed, as well.”

“You may write them a note that I will have delivered,” Professor McGonagall assured her when Dumbledore looked nonplussed. 

“I have already spoken with Gabrielle’s parents,” Madame Maxime said coolly, giving the impression that she was not at all impressed with Dumbledore’s lackadaisical approach to parents’ rights. “They have agreed she may participate. But I will be the only one to cast on her, yes?”

“Of course, Madame,” Dumbledore said smoothly. He cleared his throat and picked up his wand. “Are you all quite ready?”

“My note, Headmaster,” Cho reminded him.

“Right, yes, here,” Dumbledore ducked around his desk and came up with a piece of parchment and a quill. The group waited in silence while Cho scribbled a note to her parents, folded the parchment, sealed it magically, and handed it to Professor McGonagall. She then stepped back into place, and Dumbledore raised his wand. Draco watched with interest as he cast several charms that made Cho appear asleep, then cast the same set on Hermione. Reluctantly, Draco stood and allowed Dumbledore to cast on him, as well.

Blackness fell.

…

Draco’s first thought as face hit the cold air of a Scottish February, was that his face was freezing. He quickly realized, then, that the rest of him was following suit.

Right, he hadn’t got the chance to wear the wetsuit.

He turned quickly in the water, looking for Harry, who had let him go when Draco broke the surface and woke. 

He spotted him, just below, breathing through his gills. Harry held up two hands, fingers spread.

“Ten minutes?” Draco asked. “You got to me in ten minutes?”

Harry shook his head no and pointed to his gills.

“Ah, you have ten minutes of gill time left, got it,” Draco said. “Shall we make for the shore, then?”

Harry nodded, and the pair struck out for the shore, Harry skimming just below the surface of the water and Draco shivering all the way.

“Bloody Headmaster,” he muttered. “No time for preparation. Just, here’s my office, here you go. What if I’d had to go to the loo? I’d have been in big trouble right now, right? My balls are freezing.”

Harry appeared to be giggling silently under the water.

“Are you laughing at me, Potter?” Draco said with a playful look of menace.

Harry shook his head no, obviously suppressing his amusement as they approached the shallows, where Harry had to stay, though he waved Draco forward to get warm. 

“Don’t dawdle once you’re gill-less, love,” Draco said absently as he made for the shoreline, where he could see Madame Pomfrey and his mother waiting with Pepper-Up, blankets, and a thermos of what he truly hoped was Dobby’s hot chocolate.

Harry nodded.

Draco looked around as he took his steps onto dry land and was caught in a blanket by his mother. He spotted the crowd, which was cheering for his arrival, but the rest of the champions were nowhere to be seen.

“Were we the first, Mum?” he asked as he endured the vigorous rubdown and took the Pepper-Up from the school nurse. He bolted it, letting his ears steam as his mother nodded.

“Yes, you were, dear,” Narcissa said, adding a drying charm and swapping out his potion for the thermos. “Your Harry made good time. And, if I may say so, your strategy worked perfectly. The gillyweed and wet suit? Inspired. And he found you fairly quickly, too. The other champions appear to be struggling somewhat.”

Draco thanked Madame Pomfrey and took a sip from the thermos. Rich hot chocolate filled his mouth, and he groaned. “I love you, Mum. And Dobby.” 

Narcissa laughed. “Glad to hear it. Have a seat. I’ve a thermos for Harry, too, when he can come to shore.”

“Why do you think the other champions are struggling?” Draco asked, sitting down on a convenient bench near the dock.

“Well, they each took a different approach, of course,” Narcissa explained. “Your father managed to insinuate himself on the monitoring team, so I’m getting updates in my ear.” She turned to show him the elaborate earring she wore when she wanted contact with her husband at a fancy dress thing. “Ms Delacour and Mr Diggory used bubble-head charms but didn’t think to keep warm. They’re both in swimsuits in this cold lake, and I shudder to think how that will affect their health. Ms Delacour ran into some grindylows, too. Mr Krum used partial human transfiguration to turn himself partly into a shark, which is a saltwater creature, but apparently it worked in this freshwater body too. He’s found the place you were held, and he’s attempting to free Ms Granger, but he’s using his teeth, and, oh. Oh, that’s not good at all.”

“What’s not good?” Draco asked.

“Well, it looks as if he’s grazed her arm as he managed to get the ropes off of her,” Narcissa said. “Oh, dear. Madam Pomfrey, it appears we’ll need to heal up Ms Granger when she arrives.”

Draco winced. Not good for the state of their sort-of building relationship, injury by shark teeth.

“Ah, Mr Diggory has arrived, managed to free Ms Chang with a knife, and is following Mr Krum up,” Narcissa reported, relaying what Lucius was telling her over the earring. “And, oh, dear. Ms Delacour needs rescuing. They’re sending Lucius and Mr Shacklebolt to retrieve her, and to retrieve her hostage. Quite unfortunate.”

Draco nodded, as in the distance, he could see Viktor’s shark head break the surface and shrink. He approved of the way Viktor held Hermione just below the water, keeping her asleep until they were closer to medical help. He truly hoped Viktor knew enough to apply pressure to her wounded arm until they got here.

He also saw Cedric and Cho break the surface, and the couple swim ahead. Draco watched as Cedric drew alongside Viktor, presumably offering help before Viktor shook his head no.

The couples were racing at this point, and Draco was watching as Harry drew himself out of the water, gill-less, marking the end of the hour. Privately, Draco enjoyed the show as his intended walked toward him in an extremely form-fitting black suit. While it was clear that Harry still had some growing to do, he’d begun to fill out with lean muscle, and Draco very much liked what he saw.

Narcissa shook her head at her son, giving him a small smirk, before standing up with the now dry towel she’d used on Draco and handing it to Harry. “Nice swim?” she asked, as he began to towel himself down. 

“Bracing,” Harry said, the word muffled as he towelled off his hair and ran the material over his face. “The wetsuit was a brilliant idea. I’ll have to thank Sirius again. Alright there, Draco?”

“Just fine, Harry,” Draco said, enjoying the show. “Mum’s got Dobby’s hot chocolate ready for you when you want it.”

“Brilliant.” Harry handed the towel back to Narcissa, accepted a Pepper-Up from Madame Pomfrey, and chugged it. His ears steamed, and he shook his head slightly to clear it as Narcissa then handed him a thermos of hot chocolate. “How’d we do?”

“You were first,” Narcissa informed him. “Inside of the hour. The others, you can see.” She waved to indicate the spot where Viktor had just brought up a gasping Hermione, and the space just down from them where Cedric and Cho were also steaming from the Pepper-Up. “Hermione was injured, but I can see that Madam Pomfrey is already at work. We’re only waiting for the rescue team to bring up the Misses Delacour.”

“Oh, what happened to Fleur?” Harry asked.

“She got caught up with the Grindylows and injured, herself,” Narcissa explained. “Lucius and Auror Shacklebolt went to fetch them up, see?”

Harry turned to look, watching as a boat picked up Fleur, then sped out to where her little sister had broken the surface of the water, supported by the Merpeople. “I see Lord Malfoy managed to make himself useful, as he expected to?”

“Quite,” Narcissa confirmed. “He suggested to Minister Fudge that he’d be helpful on the monitoring and retrieval team, as long as he was here. The other judges could hardly refuse.”

Harry quirked a grin. “Of course not.”

They looked up as the judges hurried to the beach to assess the state of the champions, and observed the chaos that ensued when it was determined that Hermione had been seriously injured. 

Draco heard snatches of Viktor’s deep voice, sounding remorseful, and Hermione’s calm practical tone as Madam Pomfrey stopped the bleeding, mended the skin, and handed her a blood-replenishing potion. It looked as though the injury was confined to her lower arm, near where her hands would have been bound.

He looked round at Harry, who looked grim. “You know, love, any of you could have made the same decision,” Draco pointed out, watching Harry’s face as it didn’t relax in the slightest. “It’s a valid decision, human-to-animal transfiguration.”

“One would think, however, that arms could be useful,” Harry said quietly, “and a weapon, more so. I brought a knife. It shows a clear lack of foresight to assume shark teeth could be used. I know he had arms, even with the transfigured head.”

“I agree it wasn’t bright to use his teeth,” Draco said, watching Hermione attempt to calm a clearly remorseful Viktor. “And he clearly thinks so, too.”

Harry made a noise that could be interpreted any way one wished. Draco approved, but he did get the impression that Harry found Viktor wanting. Given that Hermione seemed to be as close to a sister that Harry would ever have, Draco found himself agreeing with Harry. And yet.

“Still her choice, love,” Draco said quietly. 

Harry shrugged, conceding the point, but saying nothing. Draco took that for as good an agreement as he’d get at this point, and glanced at his mum, who simply smiled serenely.

The boat carrying the Delacour’s, Lucius Malfoy, and Kingsley Shacklebolt lodged itself on the beach, and Madam Pomfrey hurried to meet it with Pepper-Up and towels. Fleur looked a little worse for wear, bleeding from several long, thin scratches on her upper arms and torso. Her little sister looked fine, if cold, wet, and sleepy.

The judges converged on the boat, and Hermione and Viktor wandered over to Draco and Harry.

“Alright there, Hermione?” Harry asked, concernedly.

“Just fine, Harry; see? Not even a mark,” his best friend said, showing off her arm.

“Viktor?” Harry asked, coolly.

“I’ll live,” Viktor responded, grimly. “I had no wish to harm Hermione during this task. I am disgusted with myself.”

“None of that,” Hermione assured him, laying a hand on his arm. “You prepared the best you could.”

“Not good enough,” Viktor grumbled. Harry, who agreed, remained silent, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“Well, we’re all here, relatively in one piece, and waiting on the judges,” Draco said, breaking the tension a bit. “Cho and Cedric are coming over, too.”

He watched the couple approach, hand-in-hand, and saw a beetle on Cho’s long black hair. “Er, Cho, you have a thing. Just there,” Draco said, waving vaguely at the insect. Cedric pulled it from her hair, then flipped it back into the water, where it gave a vague wave of tiny legs and sank.

“I’m not sure that was a water beetle, Cedric,” Hermione observed. 

Cedric shrugged, unconcerned. “If we picked it up in the water, it can survive in the water.”

Draco couldn’t fault his logic, but kept his eyes on the spot, anyway, as if willing the beetle to come to the surface. It didn’t.

He forgot about the bug as Ludo Bagman directed the crowd to watch him with a “ _ Sonorous!” _

“Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen! The judges have conferred and award points as follows: In first place, returning well within the time frame of one hour and demonstrating excellent use of gillyweed, Harry Potter. We award him full points.”

Polite applause sprung up from the crowd, with cheering from Gryffindor house.

“Returning second, Cedric Diggory displayed excellent use of the Bubblehead Charm. However, he was slow to get his hostage, returning five minutes after the hour. Therefore, we award him 45 points.”

Cheers and applause emanated from the stands, where Amos Diggory could be heard shouting, “That’s my boy!”

Draco refrained from rolling his eyes.

“In third,” Bagman continued, “Viktor Krum, who successfully retrieved his hostage using a complex human transfiguration. He returned just after Mr Diggory, but his hostage was injured. Therefore, the judges award him 35 points.”

“It should be zero,” Viktor muttered, and Hermione quietly shushed him.

“Finally, Ms Delacour came in fourth. While she did demonstrate excellent use of the Bubblehead Charm, she failed to retrieve her hostage and required rescuing herself. The judges, therefore, award her 25 points,” Bagman said. “Thank you all! I do believe they’re serving refreshments in the Great Hall.”

“Lunch,” Dumbledore was overheard to say, looking up at the sun, now nearly directly overhead. “It’s lunch, Ludo.”

“Right, er. Lunch. Everyone come in for lunch,” Bagman said, then quieted his voice.

The crowd began moving in that direction as Lucius Malfoy glided over to his wife, who remained next to Draco.

Draco cleared his throat, “Father, may I introduce my friends? Harry Potter, my intended, whom you know; Viktor Krum, Hermione Granger, Cho Chang, and Cedric Diggory. Everyone, my father, Lord Lucius Malfoy.”

“Charmed,” Hermione murmured.

“A pleasure,” Viktor said.

“Nice to meet you,” Cedric said.

“Charmed,” Cho echoed.

Harry said nothing, but inclined his head.

Lucius looked around at the group. “Well met,” he drawled. “You did well, champions. I’m sure, however, that you must be hungry. Please, don’t let me keep you here.”

The two other couples took their cue and bolted for the castle, while Harry remained, stepping up to take Draco’s hand and look calmly at the Malfoy Lord, who regarded him quietly.

“Lord Potter,” Lucius said. “I am pleased with your overtures toward my son, and I look forward to welcoming you to the family.” His tone radiated sincerity, and Draco briefly considered whether his mother had him under some sort of compulsion. “I invite you to call me Lucius.”

Harry, nonplussed, had clearly not expected that welcome.

Narcissa smiled gently. “He is sincere,” she said quietly. “We have had many discussions on this topic, and we are agreed on it.”

Draco inwardly shouted in glee.

Harry stilled for a moment, then inclined his head. “Thank you, Lucius. You may call me Harry.”

Some tension Draco didn’t even know he had eased inside him. He cleared his throat. “Mother, Father, if you would join us in walking to the castle? I believe we were promised lunch.”

Lucius looked warmly at his son. “Of course. Lead the way, son.”

...

Lunch after the second task seemed a bit surreal to Draco. His parents and Harry sat with him at the Slytherin table, adjacent to the Durmstrang contingent, and engaged in pleasant conversation about light topics--their studies, mostly--and the rest of the Slytherins looked on, impassive, but clearly anxious to dissect this new turn of events.

Draco’s occasional glances at the head table revealed a perplexed Snape next to an outwardly impassive Dumbledore, but Draco did wonder how long that impassive mask would last.

It was Professor Moody’s reaction to his father, however, that tripped Draco’s internal sophistry alarms. The man did nothing.

Less than nothing.

He failed to even look at Lucius Malfoy, and that gave Draco pause.

Why wouldn’t a celebrated Auror with a history of antagonism toward Dark wizards at least display some sort of emotion at being in the presence of one, especially one with whom he had a somewhat cantankerous history with? Draco knew that Moody had arrested his father, once upon a time, and that his father had been released for lack of evidence and proof of the Imperius Curse.

Moody never did buy that, and generally harassed Lucius in small ways, ever since.

So why the complete silence now?

Draco glanced at his father, then at Moody, and Lucius flicked his own eyes that direction. “Agreed, Draco,” he said, quietly, then asked after his Charms grade.

Harry managed to maintain polite conversation about school all the way through the lunch, then stood at Draco’s side as they waved the senior Malfoys off at the gate. 

“I’m starting to chafe,” Harry muttered to Draco. “This wetsuit has got to go.”

Draco, who had wondered why Harry was still wearing it, muttered back, “Are you a wizard or what?” He tapped Harry’s suit with his wand, and it switched for a set of Draco’s own black joggers and a soft green tee. “There.”

Harry slumped in relief. “Right. What was I thinking?”

“Oh, I imagine you had a lot to think about just then,” Draco allowed. “That’s alright. I can handle some of the details.”

Harry rubbed his hands over his face and levelled a Look at his intended. “You know how much I appreciate that, right? That you can handle details I can’t? Or even, that you know what those details should be? I feel pretty damn useless sometimes.”

Draco opened his mouth, closed it, then took Harry’s hands and drew the younger boy to him. “You are far from useless,” he said, firmly. “You are amazing. You’ve been learning your roles at an incredible rate. You have more magical power in your pinkie finger than most of the wizards here have in their entire bodies, and you never notice. You’re unfailingly kind, unflinchingly determined to do the right thing, and you’re hot. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, because I have.”

Harry started laughing even as he pressed his forehead to Draco’s. “Thanks, I think.”

“You don’t need to be anything other than who you are, Harry Potter,” Draco said softly, sharing breaths with Harry. They breathed together for a moment before Draco pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Harry’s lips and backed up. “So, let’s get you into something more comfortable.”

“Nah,” Harry said, sending Draco a soft look. “I like this outfit. Let’s go somewhere and hangout.”

“The RoR?”

“Perfect.”

**Chapter 6**

Some afternoon cuddles in the Room of Requirement restored Harry’s equilibrium a bit, and their thoughts turned toward the matter of Sirius’ trial--and Dumbledore’s efforts to block it.

“I really don’t know what to think,” Harry said. “He’s presented himself as something of a grandfather figure, but I know now that he was responsible for sending me to the Dursleys in the first place. That he has attempted to take money and items from my vaults, failed to educate me in matters of my own estate despite his assertion that he’s my magical guardian, and generally done his best to keep me ignorant of my circumstances.” He drew a deep breath, held it, then let it out. “If he’s deliberately blocking a trial for Sirius, then this, this,  _ situation _ means Dumbledore is doing his level best to control me, by whatever means necessary. And I want to know why.”

Draco thought about it, holding Harry’s hand. “Well, it could be that he thinks he needs to control you and your reputation in order to remain in control of the Wizengamot. Though that’s unlikely, as your seats haven’t been in play since your parents’ deaths. I checked. Controlling the Black seats might make more sense, but that’s only if he thinks he can’t control Sirius, which, let’s be honest, is true. But those haven’t been in play since Lord Arcturus’ death. I’m not sure a political motivation makes sense. But neither does his overt interest in you. So, what are we missing?”

Harry rubbed his scar out of habit, then paused, and looked at his hand. “My scar. The Horcrux. Oh, shite, the diary.”

“Diary?” Draco inquired.

“Second year, the diary of Tom Riddle’s that your father made sure made it into the school,” Harry explained, “It contained a bit of Tom Riddle that possessed Ginny, opened the Chamber of Secrets, and attempted to kill me by freeing the basilisk, which I killed.”

“Mother was livid,” Draco remembered. “He hadn’t informed her of the plan beforehand, and she wanted him to retrieve the diary when she found out about it. But.”

“But. It was already in play and unreachable, even for those of us here in the school,” Harry nodded along. 

“He apparently tried to get into the school after he got Dumbledore out of the way, but that was a no-go. McGonagall at the gates, you see,” Draco said. “My father’s reputation does occasionally hinder him. I don’t think he actually intended harm to students; he just wanted to cause a Weasley scandal that would derail the Muggle Protection Act.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Well, the diary had a bit of Tom in it. What if it was a Horcrux, and Dumbledore figured that out? What if he started to wonder about my scar?”

“But he started trying to control you way before second year,” Draco pointed out sensibly. “So that can’t be all of it. If anything, the diary might have confirmed something about your scar for him.”   
“So the question becomes, what does he know about me that I don’t?” Harry slumped into a chair helpfully provided by the Room. “I’m bloody tired of not knowing everything I need to know about myself.”

Draco squeezed his hand, but could not think of a single thing to say to that. Draco had always known, it seemed, what he needed to know about the Malfoy family and his role in it. Granted, his parents sometimes were not quite united in how Draco should play that role, but he’d been educated. Informed. Family ties discussed, plans laid. Knowledge acquired. True cunning came from knowledge, after all.

“Maybe,” Draco started speaking, slowly, “we should have another conversation with Sirius. We know he didn’t know about his ties to the Black seat. What else might have been hidden from him? What did he actually know about why your parents were in hiding? Dumbledore hasn’t been forthcoming on that subject, has he?”

“No, actually; not at all,” Harry said. “I asked once why Voldemort was after me, and he said he’d tell me when I was older.”

“Which rather implies he does know why Voldemort went after your parents and is choosing to keep you ignorant and downtrodden,” Draco said calmly. He’d begun to seethe, inwardly, thinking about it. Remembering Harry’s rags, and his obvious lack of knowledge before Draco, himself, had decided to do something about it. “Would direct confrontation work, do you think?”

Harry shook his head negatively. “I’ve tried just asking, and I get nowhere. I’ve given up on straight answers from Dumbledore.”

“So we need to find people who knew your parents,” Draco affirmed. “We’ll talk to Sirius again. And didn’t they know Professor Lupin?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded along. “Though as the only one of the four Marauders free after the night my parents were killed, you’d think he’d have made an effort to see me.”

Draco pursed his lips. That  _ was  _ a good point. “He helped you significantly last year.”

“He did,” Harry said. “But I do wonder, if he was such good friends with my parents, why last year was the first time I’d ever seen him.”   
Draco hummed, low in his throat. “I’ll see what Mother knows, too. I think she’d have likely said something if she knew anything on this front, but with your permission, I’ll check in with her with our conclusions to see if she can suss out anything else.”

“You have it, of course,” Harry readily agreed. “I do think we need an adult. One who can help sort out some of what we just don’t know yet.”

“Right,” Draco said. “I’ll write her straightaway tonight.” He stood and tugged Harry out of his slumpy chair, drawing him straight into Draco’s arms. Draco tucked Harry’s head against the curve of his neck with one hand and wrapped his other arm around Harry’s waist to draw him close and hold him tightly. “We’ll figure this out, Harry.”

Harry tightened his arms around Draco and felt safe.

…

_ Dear Mother, _

_ It was good to see you and Father today. I know Harry appreciated your support. _

_ After you left, we took ourselves off for a post-combat cuddle, and we started talking about what we do and do not know about Harry’s life so far. _

_ Mother, do you know why the Potters were in hiding? We think it might have something to do with why Dumbledore has insinuated himself into Harry’s life and business. We’re planning to check with Sirius, too. _

_ Our problem is finding Dumbledore’s motivation. He’s explicitly told Harry he’ll tell him why Voldemort was after Harry “when he’s older.” This tells me he knows why. And since Dumbledore’s not using the Potter seats, nor has he been able to secure funds from Harry’s vaults for himself--and yes, attempts were made, the audit bore that out--we think perhaps the reasons for Dumbledore’s interest and actions goes back before Harry’s placement with the Dursleys--which we now know was at Dumbledore’s behest. _

_ Dumbledore is everywhere in Harry’s life, and yet he is curiously absent, too. _

_ Any insight you could offer would be gratefully accepted. _

_ On another note, our attempts to petition for a trial for Sirius have been blocked. Twice. By the Chief Warlock. Curiouser and curiouser. What should our next steps be, then? Is there a higher authority to which we might appeal? _

_ With love, _

_ Draco _

_ … _

Draco watched with interest as Harry took delivery of what looked like official correspondence from Gringotts. The sealed gold envelope was a dead giveaway and often used when the bankers wanted to be obvious for some reason. He glanced around quietly to see who else was interested in Harry’s mail and noted that Dumbledore had come to attention, as had his own Head of House.

He saw Harry open the envelope, read the parchment to the bottom, then produce a quill to sign it at the bottom. The paper glowed, then sealed itself. Draco recognised that a copy had likely been magically produced and forwarded to the bank. 

Interesting. He’d have to get details from Harry later. 

More interesting is the way Dumbledore’s whole body sharpened as his eyes focused on Harry, who remained nonchalant about the whole thing. Draco overheard Hermione ask something, and distinctly heard Harry reply something about “family business.” But Dumbledore’s focus didn’t waver.

Oh, Draco thought. He’s trying to use Legilimency. And with Harry wearing the Potter ring--not that he advertises it--Dumbledore can’t get anywhere with it. Well, shite, that might give the game away immediately.

What were the bankers thinking?

In one stroke at breakfast, Dumbledore now knew that a) Harry had protection from Legilimency, b) Harry had a relationship with Gringotts of which Dumbledore knew nothing, and c) Harry knew something about his family. Any one of those things could tip the man off about Harry’s claiming of his Lordship, which they did not want Dumbledore to know about just yet. It didn’t seem prudent, given the lengths to which Dumbledore had gone to keep Harry ignorant.

Draco watched Snape nudge Dumbledore to stop his laser focus. Clearly, his Head of House had noticed they were being observed. Draco looked down at his own breakfast, tucking in as though he had not a care in the world. 

But he suspected a confrontation was coming.

…

_ Dearest Dragon, _

_ Our next step must be to elevate the petition to the International Confederation of Wizards. While they are largely an advisory body, they do have the authority to order a trial, and if necessary, conduct it. A person tried and exonerated in this way is normally exonerated in their home country. However, the Minister and Headmaster are playing a long game here that might not allow for the outcome we want. If you’d like, I can take point on submitting the petition on behalf of my Liege Lord, and our wheels will turn. _

_ I asked Lucius the very question you asked me: Why did the Dark Lord target the Potters, and why were they in hiding? He couldn’t tell me. And by that, I mean he tried, choked, and nearly died before I could get him help. The curse laid upon him to keep silent on matters for the inner circle of Death Eaters clearly remains in effect, and it wouldn’t if the Dark Lord were truly dead. Therefore, we know several things now: The Dark Lord isn’t dead. He targeted Harry Potter for a reason. The Potters were hiding to protect Harry. Your father knows why, but can’t speak of it in any way. (He did try writing it down, but the same thing happened.)  _

_ What we must ask ourselves is what possible reason could the Dark Lord have for attacking a baby, the son of a Peer? _

_ The only answer I can come to is prophecy. _

_ Somehow, the Dark Lord knew that Harry posed a threat to him. He sought to eliminate that threat. But as a baby, Harry could have harmed no one. Therefore someone must have predicted that Harry would grow up to harm the Dark Lord in a rather permanent fashion. _

_ Prophecy would explain it. _

_ However, the only one allowed to ask about prophecies made about them, which are recorded in the Hall of Prophecies, is the subject of the prophecy itself. Therefore, I have made an appointment for you and Harry to come with me to the Hall of Prophecies on the next Hogsmeade weekend. We’ll go on Saturday. Details of your escape from the village I will leave with you, but I have also informed Sirius of these new developments. I imagine he will greet and transport you at the usual spot. _

_ Be very careful, my son. Until we know the shape of this prophecy and Dumbledore’s interest in Harry, we must be cautious.  _

_ With love, _

_ Mother _

_ … _

“Mr Malfoy.” Draco looked up from his place in the Slytherin common room to see Professor Snape bearing down on him. “A word.”

Draco raised an eyebrow before calmly rising himself to follow the professor out the Slytherin door and to the rarely used Head’s office next to it. He seated himself in a chair opposite the Head desk as Snape took the seat behind it. 

Silence.

Draco sat back in the chair, waiting for the Professor to come out with whatever it was he had to say and determined not to speak first. 

Snape clearly recognised this, because his body slumped, just a little, in the ornate wooden chair behind the desk. “Mr Malfoy--Draco--I need to know what you’re doing.”

Draco hummed. “At the moment, I’m having a conversation with my Head of House, of course. Though I’m not certain what the conversation is about at this point.”

Snape pinched his nose between his eyes and gave a loud sigh. “What. Are. You. Doing. With. Potter.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Professor, but I do believe that’s information you’re not allowed to ask about in your official capacity as Head of House.”

Impasse.

Snape removed his hand from his face and began to roll up his left sleeve. “I assume you know what this is?”

Draco nodded. “Of course.”

“It’s darkening.”

“I’m aware.”

“So it behoves me to repeat. What. Are. You. Doing. With. Potter.”

Draco eyed his professor, who was beginning to turn red. “I’m seeing him romantically, sir.”

“Yes, and?”

“And? And, what? I’m a fourteen-year-old boy with a hot boyfriend. What’s left?”

Snape said quietly, “You know very well that your ‘boyfriend’ is likely to die at the hands of the Dark Lord. Try again.”

Draco did not, in fact, know any such thing, though he could see why Snape might think so. “Is that the official party line, then? Because my parents are well aware of my romantic interest and have decided to be supportive.”

Snape opened his mouth, closed it, then drew a deep, shaky breath. “What?”

“You saw them here yourself the day of the second task,” Draco said quietly. “What did you think was going on?”

“I certainly never thought your father would condone a relationship with Potter.” Snape spit out the name as if it was vile to him.

“Condones, supports, enthusiastically approves of, take your pick.” Draco stood up. “If that’s all?”

“What about the Dark Lord, then?” Snape hissed. “What possible gain does Lucius hope to have with the Dark Lord?”

Draco cocked his head. “What makes you think he hopes to gain anything from the Dark Lord? As far as we’re aware, the Dark Lord is dead.”

“The mark says otherwise, as you know,” Snape gritted out. “I want to know what you’re playing at. Lucius does nothing unless it will advance him or his family in some way.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Draco agreed. “If I were you, I’d think about that.”

Snape snapped his mouth shut and stared at Draco, black eyes glittering.

Silence.

“May I be dismissed?” Draco asked, affecting boredom.

Snape gave a brief nod, and Draco took himself out of the room.

Well.

That was interesting.

…

_ Dearest Draco, _

_ What, on earth, did you do to Professor Snape? He just left us, terribly flustered about your relationship with Harry. He doesn’t understand why we support it. I’ve asked him why we shouldn’t, and he couldn’t give us an answer. Literally couldn’t, I mean. _

_ Which means, of course, that Snape knows something we don’t that he can’t share. And it makes him concerned for our family to bind itself to Harry’s fate. _

_ Please do share what the pair of you discussed, son. _

_ Mother _

_ … _

_ Mother, _

_ The professor called me into the Head’s office and asked me about my relationship with Potter. I told him that it was romantic and that you and father supported it. He said, “You do know that he’s likely to die at the hands of the Dark Lord.” Which, of course, I know no such thing. I intend for Harry to be completely prepared for any confrontations he might have with the Dark Lord, for one. But I do find the Professor’s utter assuredness that Harry would die to be ...suspect. _

_ Thoughts, Mother? _

_ Draco _

_ … _

_ Draco, _

_ The professor believes that Harry will die at the hands of the Dark Lord. He believes it utterly but is unable to speak of “why” we should discourage your relationship. Again, I think we must consider prophecy, and we must also consider Professor Snape to be an “enemy” of Harry’s. He knows more than he’s allowed to discuss, anyway. _

_ I am hopeful that we will learn more when we meet on Hogsmeade weekend. _

_ Your father sends his assurances of continued support. As he should. _

_ With love, _

_ Mother. _

_ … _

Harry caught Draco’s eye at breakfast, giving him a subtle nod toward the stairs to let him know he needed to talk. Draco nodded back, finished his toast, and strolled toward the stairs himself, meeting Harry at the bottom of the staircase and walking with him to the nearest empty classroom. The classrooms, having portraits, weren’t as secure as the Room, but apparently, Harry no longer cared that much about operational security.

Or, maybe he did, Draco noted, impressed as Harry used a spell he’d never heard of to banish the people from the portraits in the old room and set a silencing ward.

Draco whistled in admiration. “What’s up, love?”   
“Dumbledore tried to get Sirius to sign off on a betrothal contract between me and Ginny Weasley,” Harry said bluntly. 

“I beg your pardon?” Draco said, astonished.

Harry began to pace. “I got a call from Sirius before breakfast this morning. Dumbledore has figured out that he’s not my magical guardian, that Sirius is, and is attempting to strongarm Sirius into a contract benefiting the Weasley family.”

“We wondered if he would try something like that,” Draco said quietly. “We suspected he was overly invested in you.”   
“Well, apparently he’s made a veiled threat to keep blocking Sirius’ attempts at getting a trial if he doesn’t come on board with Dumbledore’s plans,” Harry muttered. “Sirius told him he’d consider it to get him to back off.”

“We’ve got to get Sirius a trial.” Draco pulled out the journal that linked him to his mother. “Mother said she’d do the petition through the ICW on behalf of her Liege Lord. Let me ask if she’s managed.”

He scribbled a note in the journal asking that question and outlining the newest move by Dumbledore. The journal glowed, but no immediate response came. “She must be away from her desk. I’ll let you know what she says. But why the Weasley family?”

Harry scowled. “Apparently, Ginny wants to marry the Boy-who-lived, and her parents want her to have what she wants. Incidentally, they’d have access to funds to outfit her as befitting a Potter bride and frankly, I wouldn’t have thought it of Arthur, but someone wants my money. Dumbledore as much told Sirius the Weasleys deserved the reward of my funds for their work in befriending me. Because befriending me is apparently a lot of work! A lot of risk!” Harry paused in his pacing. “Because of course, no one would want to be friends and support for someone with the kind of negative attention I get.”

“Hey, none of that,” Draco said, reaching out to take Harry’s hand. “You are amazing, and worth every effort. You need to know that, Harry. You need to know that in your soul.”

Harry shook his head violently. “Ron was my first friend, Draco. My first. Because my aunt and uncle and cousin bullied me mercilessly, and my cousin made sure no one at our primary school would risk being my friend. How can I believe that I’m worth it?”

“Oh, Harry,” Draco said softly and pulled him in for a hug. “You’re so worth it, my love.”

…

_ Dear Draco, _

_ I have submitted the petition to the ICW, who were appalled at the treatment of our Liege Lord and started an investigation that should culminate in a trial. Please tell Harry that we remain in his corner, and remind him that your contract with him supersedes every other attempt that might be made. The Weasleys and Dumbledore will not benefit in any material way from their association with him. I promise you both that. _

_ Mother _

_ … _

Draco watched, worried, as Dumbledore nonchalantly approached Harry at the breakfast table. The conversation could not be heard, and Dumbledore blocked his view. He caught George Weasley’s eye, and the twin-tipped his ear down, unfurling what looked like a string between him and Harry. 

Draco watched George’s face, which paled a bit before the Weasley’s eyebrows rose as far as they could, and his eyes darted toward Draco. George made a “come hither” motion with one hand, and Draco was up and across the room before he realised it, coming up behind Harry to embrace him.

“Good morning, Harry,” Draco said into his ear, registering the stiffness of his love’s body as Harry fighting off a surge of utter rage. “Headmaster.”

Dumbledore looked nonplussed. “Mr. Malfoy, what brings you to the Gryffindor table this morning?”

“Ah, it looked as though Harry could use a supportive boyfriend,” Draco said with a smile. “You must have brought him some terrible news.”

Draco watched the neon flowers embroidered on Dumbledore’s purple gown bloom, fade, and start again in the time it took for the man to clear his throat. “I was unaware that I was delivering terrible news,” Dumbledore said carefully, looking at the couple. “I had thought that your relationship was no longer.”

“Whatever made you think that?” Draco asked calmly, feeling from Harry’s posture that the other teen was struggling to control the urge to curse the Headmaster. “We’ve been together all year.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said. “I suppose I thought Mr. Potter had broken it off with you after he and I talked.”

“You talked,” Harry snarled. “I had to listen to you demean a relationship I value because you didn’t think it would last. I chose to leave that conversation before I could get angry, but now you’re telling me that you’ve decided to set up a betrothal contract for me, without my input, nor without telling me that you have the power to do so. What the actual fuck?”

“Language,” Dumbledore said crisply. “Ten points from Gryffindor. Harry, I was assured that your relationship had ended and that you were most urgently in favour of a contract between you and Ginny Weasley.”

“By whom?” Harry said. “All of Gryffindor and Slytherin know that I am heavily invested in my current relationship, Headmaster. I have utterly no romantic interest in Ginny Weasley, and I am utterly gay, so there’s no way a relationship with any female would endear you to me.”

Dumbledore looked taken aback. “I see.”

“I hope you do see,” Harry said. 

Draco looked around to see that the small silenced bubble around them had been breached by several entrepreneurial Gryffindors. He cleared his throat. “Perhaps a change of venue, Headmaster?”

Dumbledore glanced around, saw what Draco had seen, and nodded. “Quite. Mr Potter, if you--ah, and your boyfriend--would like to adjourn to my office for further discussions, I’d be happy to clear the matter up.”

Draco squeezed Harry briefly in assurance, then stood and held his hand out to Harry. “Shall we?”

Harry took it, stood, then laced their fingers together. “We shall.”

Dumbledore gestured them forward, and they made their way out of the Great Hall. Draco listened to the burst of whispers and discussion that followed them and privately vowed to catch a memory of it from Theo later.

He considered, briefly, whether they should bring in one of their Heads of House for the discussion with the Headmaster when Professor Snape made it a moot point by getting up from the Head Table and following them with a silent, dramatic sweep of his robes. Draco admired the little flare Snape gave the hem and made a note to try it himself at some point.

The quartet walked silently through the castle until they arrived at the gargoyle, which automatically opened upon Dumbledore’s approach. They trooped up the stairs, then Snape leaned up against the wall behind Dumbledore’s desk while Dumbledore himself gestured to the boys to take the seats opposite. Draco sat down, keeping Harry’s hand, and watched as Dumbledore seated himself and cupped his own chin.

“Well, it seems I’ve been in error,” Dumbledore admitted. “I was told you were interested in something permanent with Ginny Weasley, and that a betrothal contract would not go amiss. I admit that I started the process with that in mind. I actually approached you at breakfast, rather than ask for a private meeting, because I thought you’d be happy and interested in sharing your good fortune with your friends immediately.”   
He’s not lying, Draco realised abruptly. 

He squeezed Harry’s hand.

Harry looked at him, read the angle of Draco’s brow, and inclined his head. “No, Headmaster. I am not interested in Ginny Weasley, and I have no interest in being betrothed to her. May I ask who told you differently? And why this person approached you?”

Dumbledore looked abashed. “Well, Harry, I thought myself to be what we call a magical guardian to you,” he explained. “With your parents dead and your godfather in prison, I took it upon myself to ensure that when you were old enough, you could come to Hogwarts. I also made sure you were safely housed with your aunt and uncle. I asked a dear friend of mine, Arabella Figg, to stay nearby and keep an eye on you for me, as I could not actually manage that. Mr and Mrs Weasley knew that I had assumed that role and approached me for the contract, citing a current relationship with their daughter.”

Draco glanced at the gobsmacked expression on Harry’s face as he processed all of that. “Headmaster, are you aware that Harry’s aunt and uncle neglected him?”

Dumbledore’s face seemed to age before their own. “I came to be aware when you arrived here, Harry. Mrs Figg had mentioned that you seemed normal enough, but when you arrived, I saw how thin you are, how ragged your mundane clothes were. Your first letter was addressed to the ‘Cupboard Under the Stairs,’ and I knew something was wrong. But you seemed, for all that, at least well-adjusted. I wrote to your aunt to suggest she put a little more effort into caring for you.”

“She and my uncle responded by locking me in the second bedroom all summer,” Harry said woodenly. “I was given tinned soup once per day to eat. They put bars on my windows. The twins and Ron had to bust me out.”

Dumbledore paled. “And the following summer?”

“It wasn’t much better,” Harry confirmed. “And Uncle Vernon’s sister Marge did her best to beat me down before I blew her up.”

Draco tightened his jaw. He hadn’t heard this part of Harry’s story before, and he squeezed Harry’s hand lightly in support. 

Dumbledore drew a steady breath. “And this past summer?”

“I threatened them with Sirius,” Harry said quietly. “It worked, for the most part.”

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, looking defeated. “I have not done well by you, my boy.”

“No, sir; you haven’t.” Harry sat up straight. “Are you still my magical guardian?”   
“It seems because Sirius never had a trial and thus was not convicted, that I am not,” Dumbledore admitted. “And I never was.”

“Then why block his efforts to get a trial?” Harry asked, bluntly.

Dumbledore scrubbed a hand over his face. “An ill-advised attempt to keep you at the Dursleys, where the wards I put up when I placed you there would keep you safe from anyone outside of the house who would wish you harm.”

“Outside of the house?” Draco drawled the question. “Trapping him inside the house with people who also wish him harm does, in fact, seem ill-advised.”

For the first time, Professor Snape spoke up. “Mr Potter, did your aunt and uncle physically abuse you?”

Harry looked away. As far as Draco was concerned, that was answer enough.

It was answer enough for Professor Snape, too, it seemed, as he drew his wand involuntarily and strode toward the Headmaster’s fireplace. Dumbledore popped up and cast a shield between Snape and the Floo. “No, Severus.”

“Headmaster, you know my vow. You know what I must do,” Snape said, low and menacing.

“At least let me go with you,” Dumbledore said. 

“You’ll just slow me down,” Snape hissed.

“Well, perhaps. But we should think about this, Severus.” Dumbledore raised both hands in a plea. “Getting you sent to Azkaban for murder would do no good.”

“It’s not illegal for a wizard to kill a muggle, especially if the cause is just,” Draco said, coldly. Harry looked up at him in surprise. “Abuse of a wizarding peer by a Muggle, in fact, is punishable by death.”

“Of course you’d know that,” Harry muttered, but he squeezed Draco’s hand back, just the same.

Draco ignored the aside, even as he smirked internally. “However, Professor, it might be best to approach the matter as a Slytherin … if your ‘vow’ will allow it.”

“I vowed to protect Harry Potter,” Snape said, looking at Harry. “Your mother was my closest friend until our falling out, and I vowed to protect you.” He glanced at Draco. “From all threats, Mr Potter.”

“But, you don’t even like me?” Harry asked weakly.

“I hated your father,” Snape admitted. “That doesn’t mean I hate you. But you do remind me of what I lost when she died, and of what I did to cause our falling out.”

“That must be hard,” Harry said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Mr Potter,” Snape said stiffly. “It is I who should apologise. I was under a misapprehension about the way you were raised, and I chose to see your father in you, rather than your mother. It is my failing, not yours.” He drew a deep breath. “Albus, I believe we must discover a new place for Mr Potter to live in the summers. And I cannot allow this situation to go unpunished. Petunia should have known better. But she was always a spiteful bitch.”

Harry perked up. “You knew my aunt?”

“We grew up together,” Snape said briefly. “Hated each other on sight.”   
Sensing the worst of the danger had passed, Dumbledore let the shield go. “You’re quite right, Severus. We will plan. And, I believe, if I allow Sirius’ trial to move forward, clearing his name would allow Harry to stay with him.”

“You should have allowed his trial to move forward, to begin with,” Draco said with a cold look. “Out of decency, if nothing else. I did think better of the Light, Headmaster.”

Ouch, Draco thought as he saw the blow hit. Dumbledore absorbed it and nodded. “You’re quite right, Mr Malfoy.”

Silence reigned for a moment as all took stock of what they had learned.

Finally, Dumbledore broke it. “Harry, I will do everything in my power to ensure that Sirius is cleared and that you have a place with him outside of school. I swear this on my magic.” He lit the tip of his wand with Lumos to show the sealing of the vow, then put it away. “Severus, you and I will seek to dismantle the wards on Privet Drive, and then, I will leave them strictly alone. Do you understand?”

Snape’s eyes glittered. “I do, indeed.”

“And the betrothal contract?” Harry asked. “I am not interested at all.”

Dumbledore strode around the back of his desk and reached for parchment and quill. “My intent in approaching you today about the contract was to allow you to pressure your godfather into agreeing to it,” Dumbledore said simply. “As that will not happen, in any case, we are left with no contract at all. I will speak with the Weasleys, and I will explain that they were mistaken in your affections for Miss Weasley.” He scribbled a note. “Fawkes.” The phoenix appeared in a ball of flame. “Please take this to Molly Weasley.” The bird accepted the message and disappeared again in a ball of flame.

“I think you two should go to class,” Dumbledore said. “I think there’s just time for you to get to Charms.”

Draco got to his feet, pulling Harry with him. They still held hands. “Of course, sir,” Draco said. Harry said nothing but allowed himself to be steered out of the office and down the stairs.

They said nothing as they strolled hand-in-hand to Charms, but Draco could tell that Harry was thinking deep thoughts. As they approached the door to Charms, Draco kissed Harry’s temple swiftly. “We’ll meet at the Room for lunch,” he whispered in Harry’s ear. “We’ll call Sirius. It’ll be alright, Harry.”

Harry gave him a wan smile, lifted their joined hands to his lips for a kiss, then let go, and walked ahead of Draco into the classroom.

**Chapter 7**

_ Mother, _

_ I hardly know what to think at the moment. I’m sitting in Charms, so you know that I am breaking our rule about no contact while I’m in class. But this.  _

_ Mother, Dumbledore did not know he was not Harry’s magical guardian, and he did, indeed, attempt to set up a betrothal contract between Harry and Ginny Weasley. While we were hashing that out, it became apparent that Harry’s background and childhood were more horrific than we imagined. Dumbledore placed Harry with his aunt and uncle, who neglected and abused him. Dumbledore didn’t know this, however, because although he’d appointed himself Harry’s magical guardian, he failed to supervise the entire situation. Professor Snape, of all people, is livid.  _

_ Did you know that he and Harry’s mum were good childhood friends? Apparently, despite Snape’s hatred of James Potter, he loved Lily enough to Vow to protect Harry. _

_ And with this, reliance on Dumbledore’s assurances, he may be foresworn. _

_ Mother, Harry admitted they locked him up, kept him in a cupboard, and neglected to feed him. He refused to say whether they physically abused him, so we may safely assume that they did.  _

_ I do not know whether Sirius knows any of this, but if his temper is anything like yours--and mine--you might wish to tell him yourself after you’ve cooled down. Possibly in a warded space. And, oddly enough, I think, perhaps, Professor Snape might be a good ally in seeking revenge on Harry’s behalf. _

_ We’ve just left that meeting, and we’re in Charms, and I might be violating any number of unspoken rules in writing you now. Please don’t mention any of this to Father until I speak of it to Harry, until I hear what he wants me to do, if anything. But if you have any insight to offer, I’ll take it. _

_ Dumbledore still does not know that Harry and I are contracted. It’s none of his business. But he did Vow to dismantle the wards at Harry’s relatives’ home, and to do his best to reunite Sirius and Harry legally. _

_ I’m now beginning to wonder if Dumbledore isn’t evil, or manipulative, but just dumb as a post about some things. _

_ I must go--I will write again later. _

_ Draco _

_ … _

In the light of the meeting in Dumbledore’s office, Draco felt no compunction at all about remaining at Harry’s side for the rest of the day. 

While they’d been keeping their public interaction relatively lowkey, to avoid awkward questions and interactions with the faculty, the rest of the student body was well aware of their relationship, if not its full extent. Given the subject matter of the very public discussion in the Great Hall this morning, and the numerous eavesdroppers, Draco thought none would be surprised to see him sticking to Harry like glue.

So, he set himself next to Harry and held his hand between classes, walking him out to Care of Magical Creatures while also idly wondering why the Slytherins and Gryffindors had so many classes together. Harry was quiet, but he held on to Draco’s hand as if it were some sort of lifeline. Given the way his day had started, perhaps it was.

That was fine with Draco. His hand was there for Harry to use. 

The class was set to work with salamanders that day, and Draco used the cover of the cheery fire in which the animals were scampering to pull Harry just that bit closer.

“Alright?” Draco asked quietly.

Harry shrugged. “Better with you here.”

Draco tugged him closer and put an arm around his waist, guiding him to tuck under Draco’s chin. He didn’t know how long he’d have the height advantage on Harry, but he planned to use it as long as he could. 

Their classmates gave them a wide berth, except for Ron, who came over toward the end of the lesson and cleared his throat. “Er, Harry. Alright?”

Harry just looked at him, incredulously. “No, Ron, I am not alright.”

“Right, right.” Ron looked away, then looked back at Harry with anxious blue eyes. “I had no idea Mum and Dad would do something like that, Harry.”

Harry sighed. “I didn’t think you would, Ron. You’d have at least let me know about it, anyway.”

“I would have, yeah. And if they’d asked me, I’d’ve told ‘em to wait,” Ron explained earnestly. “I know you two are together right now, and it’s just not on to try and break you up that way.”

“Right now, and if I have my way, always, Ron,” Harry said firmly. “That’s not going to change.”

Ron stared, then shook himself. “Right, if that’s the case, then…” He drew a breath and let it out. “Right. Malfoy, you’ll want to fill him in on some things.”   
Draco raised one fine eyebrow. “Things?”

“Er, contracts, and stuff. Look, I’m the sixth of seven and I have no prospects, even if we are members of the Sacred 28. No one bothers me about any of the protocols, and probably never will,” Ron said without inflexion. “But if you and Harry are serious, you need to fill him in on what he needs to know to make it permanent. If that’s still what you want. What both of you want.” He smirked suddenly. “Though I can’t see the appeal, myself, Harry.”

“Shut it,” Harry said, without heat. “He’s hot.”

Draco laughed a little and squeezed Harry. “Look who’s talking.”

Ron shook his head. “Nutters, the both of you. I’ll write Mum. And you might want to watch out for Ginny. None of the rest of us knew she’d go so far as to lie to Mum to get a contract, but I guess that must have been what happened.”

“Weasley, to be clear, and for your ears only, Harry and I are already in a contract,” Draco said bluntly, as Harry started next to him. “We’re quite serious. My parents and his godfather approve. Anyone else will have a difficult time getting between us at this stage. You might consider that, and keep a closer eye on your little sister.”

Ron tilted his head. “I’ll do that.”

…

Lunch could have been a morose affair, except for the fact that the Weasley twins decided to make it interesting. Watching half the people in the hall change colours--Draco thought the sapphire blue shade particularly fetching--after they drank the pumpkin juice made the other half laugh boisterously. The Weasleys clearly got what they were after in taking the attention off Harry and the scene at breakfast.

Viktor Krum’s presence next to Harry and Draco, who’d elected to sit with the Slytherins, also helped. Viktor had turned a shade of purple that Draco thought privately looked quite nice on him. 

Hermione, who had not drunk the pumpkin juice, and thus retained her English Rose complexion (which Draco knew was the envy of half the girls in their year), sat next to Viktor, and the four had a quiet but amiable chat about classes in a bid to further help Harry not think about his odious relatives. Draco noted the absence of both Snape and Dumbledore from the head table and wondered.

Harry didn’t eat much. Draco let him get away with it, but privately decided he’d bring up seeing a Healer at the earliest opportunity that he spotted where Harry might listen.

There was utterly no point throwing himself at that Gryffindor granite stubbornness until he was sure the message might be received in the positive spirit it was meant.

The promised call to Sirius, done hastily in the vestibule off the Great Hall in order to save time, led to Sirius offering assurances to Harry that he’d be firmly in his corner, always, and no matter what. They didn’t discuss the abusive relatives over the mirror, as they were all a little leery of eavesdroppers, but Harry made a vague promise to discuss “matters” with Sirius privately at an early opportunity. Draco was satisfied enough with that, and with the gleam of retribution, he could see in his cousin’s unglamoured grey eyes.

After lunch, Draco and Harry had to split up for separate classes. Draco had Ancient Runes, and Harry had a free period.

“I’m just going up to the dorm for privacy,” Harry said quietly as they paused at the base of the stairs. “See if I can call Sirius back before he hears everything and goes ballistic.”

“Mother hasn’t written back yet,” Draco said, “but I did coach her to get Sirius somewhere safe to blow.”

Harry snorted. “He will, too. Merlin, but I didn’t want anyone to know about this.”

“That’s not healthy, Harry,” Draco said softly. “You don’t have to talk about it with me or anyone else, but it’s important that the few adults you do have in your life are on your side--Mum and Sirius included--and that they have the knowledge they need to help you. I get why you’ve gone off on your own so much, now, you know. You haven’t had anyone to have your back.” He kissed Harry’s forehead gently. “You’ve got me, now, though, and I’m going to make sure you have what you need.”

Harry tipped his chin up so that he could catch Draco’s lips with his own. “I’m not used to that, but I’m trying.”

“That’s all anyone can ask of you at this stage,” Draco said. “And the adults who failed you can fuck right off.”

Harry burst out laughing. “Right, got it.” He snorted a giggle. “Still heading to the dorm. See you at dinner?”

“I’ll sit with the Gryffs if you want,” Draco offered.

“Oh, that’ll be fun,” Harry said, and his eyes sparkled at the thought. “Off you go, then.”

Draco headed down the corridor with a wave, and Harry headed up the stairs.

…

Sitting with the Gryffs was fun, Draco decided, if only because it was entertaining to watch certain faces. Many Gryffindors had no clue how to conceal their emotions, and it was clear that many had  _ feelings _ about a Slytherin at the lion’s table.

Including the youngest Weasley.

“What is  _ he _ doing here?” he heard her hiss to her brother, Ron.

“Sitting with his boyfriend,” Ron said coldly. He raised his voice a bit. “Malfoy, pass the potatoes, please?”

“Here, Weasley,” Draco responded politely, handing Ron the platter of roasted jacket potatoes that had appeared in front of him the moment before.

“He’s not still seeing Harry,” Ginny continued to hiss quietly. “He can’t be. Dumbledore said so.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at Ron, who clearly got the message that his sister’s comments could be heard and were not appreciated. Harry had shrunk down a little in his seat in response to the general conversation but had yet to say anything. Draco reached under the table to lay a hand on Harry’s thigh in support but said nothing as he loaded his plate one-handed and ensured Harry’s plate was full, too.

Ron gritted his teeth, caught Fred’s eye, and said, “Ginny, that’s enough. Harry and Draco are with each other, and that’s the end of it.” 

Ginny turned an alarming shade of red as Fred brought George along to flank their siblings. “ _ I can’t believe you!” _ She shrieked it under her breath, clearly attempting not to call attention to herself but equally unable to keep her outrage to herself. “I’m supposed to  _ marry _ Harry!”

“You’ll find that difficult,” Draco drawled, tightening the hand he had on Harry’s knee in warning, “as he’s contracted to me.”

The ripple of whispers and gossip exploded from the Gryffindor’s as if by magic, spreading over the entire hall within seconds. Harry looked up from where he’d trained eyes on his plate, and said, quietly but firmly, “And we intend to honour that.”

Fred managed to silence Ginny’s scream of outrage before it could disturb the Hall further, and together with George, the pair managed to hustle their sister out of the room. George tossed Harry a wink and smile on the way out, to show there were no hard feelings.

Ron shook his head, helped himself to the potatoes, and set himself to eating.

Harry laid a hand over Draco’s to squeeze his back, they fell silent, listening to the din and holding onto each other.

…

_ Draco, _

_ You were quite right to warn me. Beyond our own anger, keeping Sirius calm was quite the feat. We will need new warding for the primary ritual room.  _

_ Professor Snape came over for luncheon with an explicit purpose: to tell your father the address of Harry’s odious relatives. Sirius joined us, of course, and it was quite something to see the pair of them--Sirius and Severus, I mean--join forces to begin a campaign of terror. I did tell them, of course, that anything they tried to do ought to be cleared with Harry first, as he was the wronged party. I’m not sure I was successful, so you might want to prepare Harry for that.  _

_ If things were as bad as all that, he might not want the attention called to his situation. And I’m sure he has complicated feelings about his aunt and uncle. I will set myself to researching how to talk to and understand children who have been abused so that I can better advise you. Meanwhile, I think the best path toward healing is the love I know you have for each other now. It’s all over you. _

_ Lucius is livid, of course. This information about Harry’s circumstances supports his position, you know, about separating wizards from Muggles. His position, and I can’t say I disagree, is that no magical child should face the abuse and neglect that can come from being different. I believe he stands ready to fund the efforts of S & S, though I also think I can see more legislation coming from your father and his voting block about monitoring of magical children in the nonmagical world. I am sure he would appreciate a conversation with Harry about his point of view. _

_ I look forward to seeing you both on Saturday as we take our trip to the Hall of Prophecies. You will find Sirius in the usual spot. Given the clandestine nature of the trip--we do not know what Dumbledore is playing at, but there is something still off with his reactions--we suggest quietly leaving the school as you did the last time, rather than coming to Hogsmeade officially. _

_ With love, _

_ Mother _

…

Harry seemed much better when he met up with Draco by the one-eyed witch statue Saturday morning after breakfast. The pair looked out for each other as they went into the passageway, then held hands as they walked into the basement of Honeydukes.

They met Sirius in his spot by the chocolate, walked back to the alley behind the shop, and apparated to London to meet Narcissa, who stood next to the Ministry’s public entrance.

She gave them each a hug, and said quietly, “We’re keeping this visit quiet. Officially, Draco, you and I are here with our second cousin to discuss a property transfer. Harry, you will remain under the cloak. We will all make our way to the Department of Mysteries, where we will be met by the Head Unspeakable, Croaker, who is very interested in this visit and has agreed to keep it, and whatever we find, quiet.”

“Did he take an oath?” Sirius asked.

“He did, to maintain our privacy on the matter,” Narcissa nodded. “This can be negotiated should a prophecy be found and its contents are relevant to national security.”

Harry, under the cloak, squeezed Draco’s hand. Draco, who had popped out from under the cloak when he saw his mother, squeezed back. “Harry’s fine with that,” Draco said. 

Sirius nodded, too, looking resigned.

The four of them, one invisible, stepped into the red box and dialled the Ministry number.

“Names and Purpose of visit?”

“Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, and Atticus Finch. Property matters,” Narcissa said primly, and three visitor badges were issued with names and ‘Property matters’ written clearly on them. The visible three received their badges, and Sirius smirked as he attached the badge labelled “Atticus Finch” to his cloak.

“I loved that book, too,” he murmured. “Did Lily share it with you? She insisted that we all needed to read it sometime in third year.”

“She did,” Narcissa said. “It helped me understand the nature of injustice.”

“Which book is this?” Draco asked.

“Oh, dear. It’s  _ To Kill a Mockingbird. _ I’ll send it along to you. It’s quite good.” Narcissa stepped out into the Ministry atrium, closely followed by the men. Draco had let go of Harry’s hand, but he could feel that Harry was grasping his robe. Narcissa approached the guard for the wand-weighing, which took very little time, and the trio plus one headed for the lifts.

They travelled in silence all the way down to Level 10, then walked the rest of the way into the Department of Mysteries. They were met at the door by a man in a cloak with a hood that obscured his face. Narcissa raised a single eyebrow, and the man drew his hood back, revealing a handsome face that featured deep brown eyes and a crooked smile. “Narcissa.”

“Giles.” Narcissa held out both hands. “It’s good to see you.”

They air-kissed each other’s cheeks, then Narcissa turned to introduce Draco. “My son, Draco Malfoy. My cousin, Atticus Finch. And another whom you are aware of, but who will remain concealed until we are well within the Hall of Prophecies.”

“Of course. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” Giles looked around at all of them. “Follow me.”

Draco internally noted that Giles had given no last name, nor rank, though the man was clearly an Unspeakable. Therefore, this Giles must hold his mother in high esteem. For the first time, Draco considered that they might be walking into a trap of some sort. He decided, however, to trust his mother.

They walked into a round room surrounded by doors. Giles raised a wand and said something indistinct; then the doors whirled around them before one came to rest directly in front of the group, outlined in a faint gold light. Giles gestured to the rest to follow him, and Draco felt Harry take hold of Draco’s belt as they passed through the door into a room that held a series of what looked like old-fashioned Muggle file cabinets.

“This is the index room,” Giles said. “I will speak each of your names in turn, and any prophecies related to you will be made known to us. A file card will pop up with the location of the prophecy in the hall. They’ll refile themselves once we find it. So! Let’s start with our adults, shall we?”

“Atticus” raised a sardonic eyebrow. “To what purpose?”

“You’re all here, and we might as well see? Not many bother to see if there’s a prophecy about that might direct their actions.” Giles smiled as he said it. “Atticus” nodded, conceding the point.

Giles cleared his throat. “Indexico: Narcissa Penelope Malfoy, nee Black.”

A flat sound echoed through the chamber.

“No prophecies for you, dear friend.” Giles looked at “Atticus.” “Will you come forward as yourself, then? I assure you there are no surveillance devices here.”

“Atticus” glanced at Narcissa, who nodded. He shrugged. “Sirius Orion Black.”

Giles raised both eyebrows, but intoned, “Indexico: Sirius Orion Black.”

A chime sounded, a drawer glowed and opened, and a card flew out, directly to Sirius’ hand.

“Huh.” Sirius looked at the card. “Row 67, shelf A, item 3.”

“You’ll need to hold on to the card until we get there, Lord Black,” Giles said. “Next, our visible youth. Indexico: Draco Lucien Malfoy.”

Another chime sounded, and its drawer popped open so its card could reach Draco, who reached out and snatched it. “Row 91, shelf E, item 9.”

Narcissa paled. “Truly? A prophecy relating to my son?” She looked around at Giles. “Did you know about this?”

“No, Narcissa,” Giles said gently. “Many prophecies are spoken that are never heard by any. As I said, very few come here. Only true prophecies get recorded down here, and the person to which they refer, if any, is referenced magically. No one would know unless he came to check personally.”

Narcissa visibly calmed herself. “Right.”

Draco kept quiet but held the card tightly.

Harry then chose to pull the cloak over his head. “Giles.” 

“Ah, Mr Potter. A pleasure to meet you.” Giles cleared his throat. “Your full name?”

“According to my paperwork? Harry James Potter.”   
Giles intoned, “Indexico: Harry James Potter.”

Four chimes sounded, four drawers lit up, and four cards floated gently over to Harry, who caught them all, bemused.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Giles said quietly. “What locations for you, Lord Potter?”

“Row 91, shelf E, item 9,” Harry said, glancing at Draco to be sure that meant what he thought it meant. Draco nodded. They had a prophecy in common. “Row 97, shelf M, item 4. Row 94, shelf G, item 6. Row 90, shelf A, item 1.”

Giles pursed his lips. “Well, then. We’re off. We’ll start with Lord Black’s. Follow me.”

The quartet followed Giles silently through another door, to be faced with shelves upon shelves of orbs. Some glowed brightly, some were dulled out grey, and others gave a faint glow.

“The dull ones have been fulfilled or negated,” Giles explained as he led the way to row 67. “The ones that glow faintly have yet to begin. The ones that glow brightly are in process.”

Draco nodded, as did his mother and Sirius, to show understanding. Harry did nothing, clutching his cards and looking as stoic as Draco had ever seen him. They reached row 67, and Giles glanced at shelf A. “Item 3.” Giles gestured. “Lord Black, only those to whom a prophecy refers can take the orbs down.”

Sirius stepped slowly forward and picked up the orb, which glowed brightly, indicating it was in process. A deep man’s voice echoed through the hall: 

_ The Black Heir will be betrayed by one friend, and forsaken by the rest. But he will rise from his exile stronger than ever he was, and with new purpose, prove to be the key to evil’s undoing. _

Sirius carefully placed the orb back on the shelf.

“Are you all right, Siri?” Harry asked quietly.

“Quite, pup.” Sirius rubbed a hand over Harry’s messy hair. “Quite.”

Giles beckoned the group. “Let’s move on, shall we?”

They plodded down to Row 90, shelf A, item one. It gave a faint glow. “Not yet in play, I see,” Giles said. “Go ahead and pick it up, Lord Potter.” 

Harry did, and a light but somehow also deep voice said:

_ Shall he not be bound, the Heir to Avalon will rise. Beware the false, for they shall twist thy purpose. Beware the ignorant, for they shall divert the Heir from his path. Shall he not be bound, the Heir to Avalon will rise. _

“Well, that’s terribly clear,” Harry snarked quietly as he put it back. 

“And not yet in play, but still giving a faint glow,” Giles mused. “So it seems rather timely to me. Perhaps an indicator of great things to come, if you’re allowed to grow into your role? I’d heed the warnings, though, Lord Potter. Let’s head off to the next.”

They moved down to Row 91, where the joint prophecy glowed brightly from its position on the shelf.

“Together?” Draco asked.

Harry nodded, and the pair took the orb down together. Another of those deep voices sounded:

_ Serpent and Hawk shall find love and power together. Their binding shall confound evil’s true purpose and help to bring about its end. Serpent and Hawk shall find love and power together.  _

“Interesting,” Giles said. “Mean anything to you?”   
Draco held Harry’s gaze for a moment, before saying, “Yes.” He guided Harry as they carefully set the shining orb back. “Next?”

Giles said no more but led them to row 94.

The same light, but deep voice as his earlier prophecy spoke from an orb of grey:

_ The Heir of Avalon shall take up the Sword and kill the Beast. Thus shall he end a reign of terror and gain his greatest weapon in the fights to come. _

“Slain any great beasts lately, Lord Potter?” Giles joked.

“Does a basilisk count?” Harry responded calmly as he put the orb back.

“Er. I would think so, yes.” Giles looked taken aback.

“Then you should count this one as fulfilled, rather than negated,” Harry said. “Row 97?”

Giles kept silent as he wound their way to Row 97. The prophecy there glowed brightly, and Harry picked it up.

_ The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him. Born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies. _

Harry set it back, taking note of the label as he did so. “What does the label mean?”

“It’s the recording of who spoke the prophecy and to whom, if any,” Giles explained. “Your other prophecies weren’t labelled because no one heard them. Though we’re fairly certain the speaker of the Avalon prophecies was a witch named Pandora Lovegood. There are a few others that do not directly refer to the Heir of Avalon, which I will see you get transcripts of, Lord Potter.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. “So this label?”

“Sybill Trelawney to Albus Dumbledore,” Giles said quietly.

Several things fell into place for Draco with a crystalizing crash.

“That miserable old goat,” Draco murmured. “He’s been trying to control you because he knows this prophecy. He thinks you’re the only one who can defeat Voldemort.”

“And that I’ll likely die trying,” Harry said. “No wonder …” He glanced at Giles. “Let’s discuss this later.”

“Yes, let’s,” Sirius said briskly. “Narcissa, if we’re quite finished, we should be going.”

“Yes, of course,” Narcissa said. “Giles, our thanks. If you could escort us out?”

“My pleasure,” Giles said and raised his hood to escort them to the lower entrance. His modified voice then could be heard from its depths. “You might want to cloak Lord Black instead of Lord Potter on your way out. If anyone heard his name or had any taboos on it, you’re likely to find Aurors on the other side of the door.”

“Giles, you assured me this was safe,” Narcissa said icily, drawing herself up. 

“Precaution only, Narcissa,” Giles said calmly. 

Harry handed Sirius the cloak, and Sirius drew it over his shoulders before holding one hand out to Harry. “You, too, pup.” Harry took the hand, and they both disappeared under the cloak. 

Draco assumed Sirius transformed into his animagus form to make them both fit, but said nothing. 

There were, indeed, Aurors in the atrium when they emerged, but they failed to detect Harry or Sirius under the cloak. Draco and Narcissa walked calmly past them toward the lifts, then up and out to the Ministry fireplaces.

“Shall we go home for a bit, Mother?” Draco asked, loudly enough to be overheard “I’d like to have tea with you and Father before I go back to Hogwarts today.”

“Of course, Draco,” Narcissa said. “I’ll go ahead and alert the elves. Do not dawdle, son.”

“Yes, Mother,” Draco said, and watched as she Flooed out, calling, “Malfoy Manor.”

He felt Harry grasp his belt, and hoped Sirius had a good grip as Draco stepped into the flames and called out, “Malfoy Manor.”

The whir and pop of spitting out in the Malfoy Manor grate settled Draco, as he could still feel Harry attached to his hip. He stepped out into his family home’s foyer and watched as Harry pulled the cloak of himself and a canine Sirius, who emerged quickly into human form.

“Well, that was exciting,” Draco said with a smirk.

Harry rolled his eyes but grasped Draco’s hand. “Right. Are you the serpent or the hawk?”

**Chapter 8**

Serpent or hawk?

Well, that was the question, wasn’t it?   
The group sat down to tea in the Malfoy Manor sunroom, without Lucius, who rightfully pointed out that what he didn’t know couldn’t be taken from him. He seemed content to know that his son had an integral role in the future of magical Britain, one, they hoped, that would not be tainted by the Dark Lord.

“Tell me nothing else,” Lucius said, firmly. “I will leave you to your discussions.”

Draco watched his father leave, then turned to his mother. “Will this be a problem?”

“Yes,” Narcissa said, also watching as her husband left. “It will, unless we can prevent Moldyshorts from returning.”

Draco snort-laughed in an ugly way. “Mother!” he cried out, scandalised.

“Well, I rather like it,” she said. “Tea, everyone?”

The rather lush display of late morning nibbles--miniature quiches, cucumber sandwiches, fresh black currant scones with cream and jam--took over conversation momentarily as they all filled their plates, doctored their tea, and tucked in.

“So,” Sirius said, “I am to be evil’s undoing? I shall certainly enjoy that.”

“Well, I thought, perhaps, that part might have to do with helping me,” Harry said, hesitantly. “It sounds as though I’ve got to kill or be killed, and I know I’d like help with that. I don’t know that I could actually kill anyway.”

“Well, it actually said vanquish,” Draco pointed out. “That ‘either must die at the hand of the other’ bit makes it sound like you have to kill or be killed, but it said you have the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. And that even he doesn’t know what that power is. Astonishingly enough, that could mean just about anything.”

“I’ve done a bit of research,” Narcissa said, “about Horcruxes. And Siri, I think this is where you could come into play. Because if Moldyshorts made more than one of those things--and, I think, Harry, the fact that you had a piece of his soul lodged in your scar suggests he was a bit careless about their creation--then I think, perhaps, we should track those down and destroy them.”

“That would mean the key to his ultimate death would come from you, Harry,” Sirius said, “as you're claiming your lordship when you did alerted us to the presence of those nasty things.”

“Which do appear to anchor a soul to this plane of existence by severing bits of it off.” Narcissa shook her head. “It’s the blackest of magic and a true crime. They’re trapped in containers that can only be destroyed through the use of things such as Fiendfyre, or basilisk venom.”

“I used the Sword of Gryffindor to kill the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets,” Harry said calmly. “It’s goblin made, so it probably absorbed some of the venom.”

“Was that what that one prophecy was about?” Draco asked. “I thought you were pulling Giles’ leg when you said it had been fulfilled.”

“No, I pulled the Sword of Gryffindor from the Sorting Hat and killed the basilisk in the Chamber with it.” Harry shrugged as he pulled the plate of scones toward himself again. “It bit me as it died, but Fawkes came along and cried in the wounds, so I lived.”

The other three wizards at the table stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Right, so this I hadn’t heard,” Sirius said. “So you got an immunity bite from a basilisk?”

“Sorry?” Harry asked.

“It’s not commonly known, but it is in the Black family lore, that a Parselmouth is immune to most poisons, depending on the strength of the first snake to bite the Parselmouth,” Sirius explained. “So if the first snake to bite you was a basilisk …”

“He’ll be immune to most anything else,” Draco realized. “Well, well, Harry.”

“So the weapon to defeat Moldyshorts could be this immunity?” Narcissa asked. 

“That, or the Sword,” Harry said, then took a bite of freshly buttered scone.

“Or, perhaps the phoenix tears?” Draco pondered. “What properties do they impart to someone who has been imbued with them?”

“More research, I think,” Narcissa said. “I will begin this afternoon. I will also look up the Heir of Avalon business. Now, to more important matters: which of you is the serpent, and which is the hawk?”

Draco and Harry looked at each other, and Draco said, “We’re not sure. I mean, I’m a Slytherin, so it could mean that I’m the serpent, but Harry’s a Parselmouth, so it’s more likely to be him.”

“Have either of you meditated on your animagus forms?” Sirius asked suddenly.

Another glance.

“No-o-o,” Draco said, drawing the word out. “We don’t even begin learning about the process until fifth year Transfiguration.”

The tips of Harry’s ears had turned pink, but he mumbled, “Maybe.”

“What?” Draco asked. “When?”

Harry cleared his throat. “Well, it’s something my father could do, and there’s something of a family gift for it, so I thought I might as well … try.”

Sirius looked proud. “Of course. How far have you gotten?”

“Not very,” Harry said. “I have a hard time with the meditation part.”

“Right,” Sirius said. “That’s not unusual. I would say, though, that you might find yourself to be the serpent in this equation. Most Parselmouths, if they’re Animagi, end up being some kind of snake.”

Harry looked disappointed. “I was hoping for a stag.”

Sirius closed his eyes briefly, then set his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Pup, you may look like your father, but you are not him. You are your own person. And James would be proud of you, no matter what.”

Harry looked away.

Draco swallowed around the lump in his own throat, but said, briskly, “I’m not sure where to begin. Could you help, cousin?”

Sirius cleared his throat. “Of course.”

“Well, that’s settled, then,” Narcissa said brightly. “What else can we take away from what we’ve learned this morning?”

“Beware the false, and beware the ignorant,” Draco said, thinking. “Which is which?”

“Well, I’d say Dumbledore falls somewhere in there.” Harry took another sip of his tea. “Ignorant, rather than false, maybe? He certainly seems to think he knows more than it appears he actually does.”

“True,” Draco said. “What about the Weasleys?”

“I’d count Ron and the twins as true,” Harry said slowly, thinking out loud. “But Ginny? Mrs Weasley? I’m not sure they are who I thought.”

“‘Shall he be not bound’ sounds as though you need to be free of something,” Sirius speculated. “As if you will rise as Heir only if you’re free to do so.”

“And the Serpent and Hawk bit makes it sound as though we will be powerful together,” Draco said. “Love and power, together.”

“How’s the love bit coming along?” Sirius asked, half-joking. “Ready to say ‘I do’ yet?”

“Siri, we were waiting on betrothal until we’re fifteen,” Harry said. “Which has been hard, because I find Draco incredibly hot.”

“It’s a burden to be this beautiful,” Draco said airily, making his mother laugh into her tea.

“Yet somehow, you manage,” Harry said seriously, but with a bit of a grin.

“So, love? Check,” Sirius said with the air of one making a list. “Now, what kind of power can that bring to you as a couple?”

“It said binding together,” Draco remembered. “So does being bound to me negate the Heir of Avalon prophecy? And if so, does being bound to me, in order to defeat evil, sound like it’s more important that rising as Heir of Avalon?”

“‘Shall he not be bound’...” Harry trailed off. “Giles did say they had other prophecies about Avalon, right?”

Narcissa nodded. “He did.”

“Then we should see what they hold,” Harry decided. “We’re not bound, officially, yet. And the Heir prophecy was not yet glowing. And anyway, have I already been identified as the Heir in the other prophecy about slaying the beast? Have I not already risen?”

“There’s got to be more to it,” Sirius said. “I think you should continue to put off your betrothal until we have a bit more clarity on the subject. And I definitely think you two should pursue your Animagus forms. I’ll contact Professor McGonagall so that she can supervise if necessary. Narcissa, do you have a copy of  _ Becoming One with the Beast?” _

“I’m sure we do,” Narcissa said, rising. “I’ll go and check the library.”

“Bound,” Harry said. “Bound by what and to whom?”

“Those seem like excellent questions,” Draco allowed. “But we do know that binding to me will enable us to defeat evil, which seems an excellent goal. And in the end, does it matter? Whatever will be, will be, love. Perhaps we should step back and make our decisions as if we had never heard the prophecies.”

Harry drummed his fingers against the glass-topped table. “Perhaps.”

“The implication is that if he’s not bound by false and ignorant ‘friends,’ he can rise as Heir of Avalon,” Sirius said. “You’re neither false nor ignorant, so it wouldn’t include you, Draco.”

Harry rose. “No, Draco’s neither. Show me around, Dragon?”

Draco rose, too. “Of course, Harry. Make yourself at home, cousin. I’m going to give Harry the tour.”

Sirius chuckled. “Of all the broom closets, I suppose.”

“No, of course not,” Draco said, pompously. “I’ll just take him to my room.”

The rolling laugh that followed them out into the hall made Draco grin as he tugged Harry toward the stairs.

“So we’re headed to your room, then?” Harry asked, smiling a little.

“Absolutely. I need a snog,” Draco said briskly.

“Just the one?” Harry asked, speeding up a bit.

“Well. We can start there.”

…

Ten minutes later, the boys were panting into each other’s mouths, face-to-face and heart-to-heart on Draco’s four-poster bed. 

“Aren’t we supposed to have a chaperone?” Harry gasped out between kisses. 

“House-elves,” Draco muttered back briefly. “They’ll have the room monitored.”

“Good,” Harry said, diving back in with his tongue.

They carefully kept their hips away from each other as they snogged, not wanting to go too far, but too heated to realise they were headed that way anyway. A house-elf popped into the room and dumped a bucket of cold water on the pair, who sputtered apart.

“Mopsy is being sorry, Master Draco, but you tripped the chaperone spell,” the little elf said. “You knows the rules at home.”

“Thank you, Mopsy,” Draco gasped out, and jumped out of bed, holding out a hand to Harry. “Come on, love, let’s get dried off before we head back to Hogwarts.”

They took turns drying each other with a spell, then headed back downstairs, hand-in-hand, to face Sirius and Narcissa, whom they found in the library.

“Ah, there you are,” Sirius said, looking up from his book with a twinkle in his eye. “Have a nice tour?”

“More like a wet one,” Harry muttered. “Mopsy got us with a bucket of ice water.”

“Boys, boys, boys,” Narcissa said softly, shaking her head. She had a twinkle in her own eye. “You are too young to be needing a bucket of ice water. It’s better to make a decision to be betrothed, after all, rather than let magic decide it for you.”

“Right, Mum, thanks,” Draco said dryly. “I think we need to head back to Hogwarts.”

“Likely,” Sirius said, rising. “Narcissa and I plan to seek out and destroy the Horcruxes. Leave them to us. We saw a promising spell…”

“Well, yes,” Narcissa said. “If we can find one Horcrux, we can use it to track the others and destroy them all at once.”

“Since we know you were a Horcrux, Harry, albeit an unplanned one, we might be able to use you, but I’m reluctant to do so if we could find an object,” Sirius said. “The spell doesn’t specify what happens to the focus object.”

“Yeah, rather not be an experiment, me,” Harry said. “Again. But we do know where another Horcrux object is.”

Sirius looked up from the book. “Where?”

“Dumbledore’s office. He’s got the diary.” Harry nonchalantly picked up another book. “I mentioned that to Draco.”

“But not to me.” Sirius stroked his goatee with two fingers. “Why don’t I have a chat with Dumbledore about Horcruxes, pup? He’ll be expecting me, anyway. I’ll have to tell him we know about yours, and that it’s gone.”

“I’m starting to think it’s wiser to work with him at this point,” Draco said, tiredly. “He’s becoming an obstacle because of his inability to share information or keep Harry informed about his own life. If he knew the prophecy this whole time, that explains why he wanted to keep control of Harry, and also why he did such a piss-poor job of it. Wouldn’t want Harry to be too attached to living, now would he?”

“Draco, that’s unkind,” Narcissa admonished but sighed. “I’m afraid you’re right, however.”

“Take back-up,” Harry said abruptly. “I don’t want you falling into a memory charm.”

Sirius regarded Harry warmly. “Of course. Perhaps Severus wants to play? He’s rightly livid.”

“A good choice,” Narcissa nodded. “The Headmaster will never quite understand how it is the pair of you are working together.”

“Which reminds me,” Draco said, “that you had plans for Harry’s relatives. Care to share?”

Harry looked up from the book, green eyes focusing on Sirius’ face. “I don’t really want them dead, you know,” he said softly. “Petunia is still my mother’s sister, and Dudley is a waste of space who happens to be my closest remaining blood relative aside from her.”

“Not dead, pup, no, though that would be perfectly legal,” Sirius assured him. “Just a minor karma curse here and there. Though Lucius did buy Grunnings. Not sure what the fat bastard Dursley will do without a job, but we’re about to find out.”

“And the Headmaster did, in fact, dismantle the wards,” Narcissa said. “Severus was quite put out to find that they were barely working. And I believe Dumbledore was even more so, as he’d based them on your mother’s love and sacrifice, assuming Petunia would also love you. He was quite wrong, and he’s of an age and status where being wrong is difficult for him to swallow.”

Harry went quiet, then extended a hand to Draco. “Let’s go, please.”

“Pup,” Sirius began, but fell silent at a look from Draco. He then cleared his throat. “I’ll apparate you to the alley behind Honeydukes.”

“That’d be great,” Draco agreed readily. “Got everything you need, Lord Potter?”

Harry gave him a small grin. “Right here.” He held up Draco’s hand, firmly ensconced in his own.

Draco melted. He was fairly sure he heard his mother coo, too.

Sirius just winked at Draco and led the pair out with a wave back at Narcissa.

The trip back to Hogsmeade went smoothly. Sirius used his glamour necklace, and as they all got to the alley, Draco and Harry checked each other over, then said goodbye to Sirius in order to blend in with the crowd of students still in Hogsmeade.

They picked up some good chocolate from Honeydukes, browsed through Zonko’s, and then headed for the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer and a plate of fish and chips, not eager, yet, to return to Hogwarts.

Draco crunched his fish happily for a moment, then reached over to squeeze Harry’s knee. “It’s all right, you know.”

Harry looked up from where he was idly drawing on his plate with a chip. “What’s all right?”

“Your family will be fine, in the end,” Draco said. “We know you’re not interested in actively harming them. But we can’t let their treatment of you stand, Harry. We love you. I love you. I only wish we had known earlier so that you wouldn’t have had to return there.”

“I wish I hadn’t been placed there at all,” Harry said quietly. “Petunia and Vernon, they really hate magic. I mean loathe it. And I know they wanted another kid and they wanted a bigger house, and they were stuck there. Now I know it’s because of the wards and whatever magic Dumbledore worked to get them to take me in. I think we’re all just going to be happier at a distance.”

Draco let that sink in, then sighed. “Fucking Dumbledore.”

Harry nodded.

“Right, eat those chips, please,” Draco said in as haughty a tone as he could, just to see Harry roll his eyes and grin. But Harry finished the chips.

…

Draco got an owl delivery from his mother the next morning that included the Manor’s library copy of  _ Becoming One with the Beast _ . He held it up so Harry would see it from his place next to Hermione at the Gryffindor table, and Harry grinned before beckoning him over.

He finished his last bite of eggs, then took himself over the Gryffs and sat himself across from Harry with a flourish. “As requested.”

Harry took the book. “Excellent.” Hermione leaned over to see, and he showed her the title. “So we can start the…” He looked around. “Well, I’d guess you’ll put it together.”

“Oh, Harry, that looks like a brilliant idea!” Hermione said. “Can I read it?”

“Draco and I are going to work on this together,” he told her, then glanced up at his intended. “Can she join us?”

Draco shrugged. “I don’t mind. All knowledge is useful, anyway.”

“With that attitude, how did you not become a Ravenclaw?” Hermione wondered out loud.

“I was indulged,” Draco said with a smirk.

“Same way I became a Gryffindor, I reckon,” Harry commented absently, paging through the first chapter. “Though it took me a while longer to convince the hat not to put me in Slytherin.”   
“You were supposed to go into Slytherin?” Draco asked, amused.

“Well, the hat wanted to put me there, but I met this snarky bastard on the train and thought, ‘anywhere but there,’ please,” Harry said, looking up to smirk at his intended.

“Hidden depths, Potter,” Draco drawled. “Hidden depths.”

Hermione giggled.

A sleepy Ron came up to the table and took the seat on Harry’s other side, drawing a platter of fried eggs to him. “Alright?” he muttered, in a general kind of way, as he speared a few eggs onto his plate.

“Fine,” Harry said.

“Still, it’s exciting, isn’t it?” Hermione asked. “Getting started?”

“I think it will be, yeah,” Draco admitted. “Shall we find a classroom after breakfast? Unless you have plans on this fine Sunday.”

“No, no, no plans.” Hermione tried to look over Harry’s shoulder. “I’d love to get started straight away.”

“What are you lot up to?” Ron asked, looking less sleepy. He shovelled some beans on to his plate and reached for the toast.

Harry eyed him. “Animagus transformation. Interested?”

Ron, thankfully, swallowed before answering. “Eh. S’posed to be hard, isn’t it?”

“As are most things worth doing,” Draco said crisply. 

“Eh,” Ron said. “I’ll pass. I wanted to hang out with the twins today.”

“Bold of you to assume we want you along,” George said as he settled on Ron’s other side. “But as it happens, we’ve got some things we need help with today, so we’ll endure, Ronniekins.”

The tips of Ron’s ears got red, but he said nothing.

Harry crammed the last of his toast into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed it down. “Ready, then?”   
Hermione and Draco followed him out of the hall to start their lessons.

…

_ Mum, _

_ Meditating for the animagus form is challenging, to say the least. We’ve roped Hermione into helping us. Well, she roped herself, but we knew that would happen. I’ve managed to get as far as seeing a close representation of the environment my animal would be in, and frankly, it’s the sky, so I think we have our answer about who is the hawk. _

_ Harry says he finds it easier to do this meditation bit now that he’s not got a Horcrux in his head, and I can absolutely see why. He’s finding himself in a cave in his meditations. _

_ Wouldn’t it be interesting if Harry became a basilisk? _

_ Oh, but I’m speculating. How is the Horcrux hunting going? Did cousin Sirius manage to get the old diary from Dumbledore? The Headmaster has been leaving us strictly alone.  _

_ Very much looking forward to Easter hols, Mum. I can bring Harry, right? _

_ With love, _

_ Draco _

_ … _

_ Dearest Draco, _

_ Of course, you can bring Harry for the holiday. Make sure to let him know he’s invited because I’ll expect to see him.  _

_ Dumbledore accepted our invitation for lunch and discussion, and he was, as you suspected, flummoxed to hear that we knew about the Horcruxes. With that bit of information shared, he was very willing to hand over the diary and everything he knew about Tom Riddle, a.k.a. Voldemort. He had begun to believe that the Horcrux in Harry’s head meant he had to die to defeat Voldemort (which rather explains why he was attempting to take steps to secure the Potter line and money), and he was clearly relieved to be wrong. When told Harry was no longer a Horcrux, Dumbledore seemed to age before our very eyes. It had never occurred to him that some sort of family magic could work to expel the soul fragment.  _

_ The old and learned often get tunnel vision, or convinced they know the only way something can go, and it seems as though the Headmaster fell victim to that. _

_ The Headmaster is working with Sirius, now, and he has arranged a formal hearing for Sirius next week. Because Sirius was held without trial, and because of the lack of evidence, Dumbledore expects that testimony under Veritaserum will be enough to clear him. We are planning for all possibilities. _

_ Vernon Dursley has been fired for embezzlement. Petunia Dursley is furious, because she had no idea, and is now horribly embarrassed. We didn’t even have to magic the situation. Dursley really is that stupid. _

_ My best to Harry, _

_ Mum _

_ … _

As the party most directly affected by the events of Oct. 31, 1981, Harry was invited to the hearing of Sirius Black. He requested permission to bring Draco along, as moral support, and it was readily granted. Headmaster Dumbledore met the pair in the atrium after breakfast the Friday before the Easter holidays and walked with them down to the gate, saying very little. Draco thought he looked older than he’d ever seen him, as if the weight of his mistakes in the last fifteen years had finally settled on his shoulders.

Still, the twinkle was familiar as the elder held out his arm for Draco and Harry to take before apparating to the Ministry visitor entrance.

They made their way quietly through the phone booth, received badges that said “Moral Support,” and past the wand-weighing desk to the lift. 

As they got in, Harry said quietly to Draco, “Is that ‘moral support’ for each other or ‘moral support’ for Sirius?”

“No idea,” Draco replied with a slight grin.

Dumbledore, who’d overheard, smiled slightly. “Best not to ask,” he said delicately. “I knew the witch who programmed the booth. She had an interesting way of approaching life.”

Draco looked at Harry, who seemed to be holding back a giggle. Draco wondered just how “interesting” a person had to be to get that description from the Headmaster as they exited the lift at the Courtroom level and were escorted to Courtroom 10.

“I don’t know that I was expecting to be in the largest courtroom we have,” Draco murmured. “I would have thought the Minister would like this hearing to be private.”

“Well, no,” Dumbledore admitted. “The Minister firmly believes in himself and his own biases. He wants to publicly exonerate himself with this hearing, and therefore, he wants a large audience. As that plays into what we need in getting the truth out, I allowed it to stand.” He escorted the boys to a seat on the defendant’s side, just behind the table set up for the defendant and counsel. “I am giving evidence, so I cannot preside over the hearing, but I have secured Madam Amelia Bones, who is, as I can attest, the fairest of witches.”

Draco looked around at the growing audience. “I don’t see …”

“Ah, yes, well,” Dumbledore smiled slightly. “He’s present. Madam Bones alerted me that Sirius had surrendered himself to her directly this morning. He’s in safe hands.”

Harry merely looked up, then looked away.

Dumbledore’s smile faded out at the lack of acknowledgement, and he took his seat on Harry’s other side.

A tall, stately looking woman in rich, formal robes of purple came in through a side door to take a place at the dais at the front of the room. Cornelius Fudge and a vaguely toad-shaped woman in pink arrived through the main door and took a seat in the front row behind the prosecutor’s table. A wizard whom Draco did not know sat at what was presumably a secretary’s desk, to record the proceedings. 

The woman, whom Draco presumed was Madam Bones, banged a magical gavel, which boomed, and the low buzz of conversation that Draco hadn’t really registered beforehand quieted. 

“I call this hearing to order,” Madam Bones said. “I am Madam Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and as our Chief Warlock has recused himself from these proceedings I am the presiding judge for the hearing into the events of October 31, 1981, and the guilt or innocence of Sirius Orion Black.”

The low buzz came back with a slightly higher tone, but Madam Bones banged her gavel again, and it diminished.

The Minister rose. “Amelia, I believe this is all unnecessary. Sirius Black was found guilty thirteen years ago. If he’s turned in now, he’ll get this Kiss by my order. And that’s the end of it.”

“Your objection is noted, Minister, but your facts are in error,” Madam Bones said calmly. “The first item we must enter into the record is the acknowledgement of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that Sirius Orion Black did not have a trial. Since alerted to the possibility, my department has gone through every possible record of that period and found no trial on file for Sirius Black. This means, of course, that we held the Lord Presumptive of the House of Black without hearing or trial, in Azkaban, until he took it upon himself to leave almost two years ago.”

Bedlam broke out behind them, but Madam Bones merely waved her gavel, and silencing wards fell. “In our investigation, we also found three others who were sent to Azkaban without trial, and we will conducting hearings in those cases as well.”

“Preposterous!” Fudge sputtered.

“Apparently not,” Bones responded, and adjusted her glasses. “We currently are searching for my predecessor in this position, Bartemius Crouch, Senior, who has been absent from his Ministry position since the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament. His assistant, Percival Weasley, has been taking on Mr Crouch’s tasks in his absence. That investigation is ongoing.”

The news that Crouch was apparently missing made Draco’s eyebrows rise, and if not for the silencing wards, Draco was sure he would be able to hear the slurs and shouts he could see being mouthed around him. He looked up and to the right--the space where his father habitually sat while in session, and caught Lucius’ eye. Lucius gave a slow nod, and Draco pressed his lips together. Well, then.

“The second item we need to confirm is that the investigation into the events of October 31, 1981, apparently did not happen or was left incomplete,” Bones continued. “At this time, I would like to call Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore to the dock to give testimony.”

Dumbledore stood, and moved toward the throne-like chair in the centre of the room. The chains on it rattled, but he smiled at them faintly as he stood in front of the chair, and they relaxed.

“Please take the oath,” Bones said.

“I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, swear on my magic that the testimony that I am about to give in this hearing is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so far as I know it to be.” Dumbledore’s wand tip glowed, and he sat down.

Interesting, Draco said. No real loopholes in that, aside from truth only for the duration of the hearing, which made sense. He laced his fingers through Harry’s as Madam Bones asked her first question.   
“Mr Dumbledore, what was your role in the events of October 21, 1981?”

Dumbledore pressed his lips together. “I was deeply involved in those events.”

“How so?”

Dumbledore drew a deep breath. “In the summer of 1980, I became aware that the wizard formerly known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, planned to target the Potters for death.”

Draco admired the cheek. That “became aware” was a stroke of genius, really; it left out his spy network and his knowledge of the prophecy. He squeezed Harry’s hand a Iittle as they listened.

“I suggested the couple, who were expecting a baby at the time, retire to their cottage in Godric’s Hollow, where I helped set wards and offered to cast the Fidelius Charm on their behalf in order to hide them. The charm requires the use of a Secretkeeper, and I offered to be that person. But James had a different idea. He thought it best that Sirius Black be their Secretkeeper, and Lily told me she would cast the charm. 

“I had no reason to believe anything about that plan had changed. By the time everything was in place, Harry James Potter had been born. James allowed me to place personal wards on all three of the Potters, tied to orbs in my personal study at Hogwarts. On October 31, 1981, I was in my study when James’ orb shattered.”

Draco squeezed Harry’s hand even harder, and Harry squeezed back.

“As I did not know the Secret, and thus, only vaguely knew they were in Godric’s Hollow, I could only alert their friends and attempt to head that way myself. My Floo was shut down, of course, because Hogwarts was on a war footing, and I scooped up Lily’s and Harry’s orbs as I ran toward the front doors, sending messages to anyone I could think of. Lily’s orb then shattered in my hands, and I hastened out the door to the front gate, running into our groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid along the way. 

“I told Hagrid what was happening and pulled him along with me, apparating to Godric’s Hollow. We arrived to find half the house gone. I could see smoke rising from the wreckage, and I could hear Harry screaming. But curiously, I could not sense Voldemort. I cast the Revelio charm, and found only Harry. I urged Hagrid to go up and get Harry, and get him to safety at Hogwarts before coming to the Ministry to alert Bartemius Crouch, Senior, of the tragedy.

“I was detained. Bartemius refused to listen to reason, and by the time I managed to convince him that we were needed at Godric’s Hollow, Hagrid had taken Harry to Hogwarts, and much of the magical evidence we would normally have needed for a complete investigation had been trampled on by onlookers. I helped secure the bodies of Lily and James, then started looking for Sirius. Remember, as far as I knew, he had been the Secretkeeper, and thus responsible for these events.

“I confess I was angry,” Dumbledore said quietly. He paused. Draco looked around and saw that many of the faces in the packed courtroom, silent under the wards, were rapt. “I told Bartemius that Sirius was responsible and went back to Hogwarts to check on Harry.”

“You said you had no reason, then, to believe that the original plan had changed,” Bones said. “Do you now have reason to believe that something changed?”

“Yes, I do,” Dumbledore said. “At the end of last year, it was proven to me beyond any shred of doubt that Sirius Orion Black was not the Potters’ Secretkeeper, and thus, not responsible for the deaths of the Potters.”

“Do you have evidence?”

“Memories only, Madam Bones,” Dumbledore said. “Of a magical artefact that recognised the current living existence of Peter Pettigrew.”

“Peter Pettigrew?” Bones asked.

“Peter was a friend to the Potters, as well,” Dumbledore said. “It is he whom Sirius confronted on a London street, and he whom I believe caused the explosion that killed the thirteen muggles on that street. We believed him dead. We awarded his mother the Order of Merlin on his behalf. But this magical artefact said he was alive, and it cannot be fooled.

“It seemed to me that this cast doubt on the entire story.”

Madam Bones nodded, and shuffled her papers. “Thank you. I reserve the right to ask additional questions for the duration of this hearing, and I hold you to your oath.”

A light flashed, and Daco presumed that meant Dumbledore was still under oath as he made his way back to his seat.

“As we cannot find Bartemius Crouch, Senior, we cannot know what he was thinking when he sent Sirius Black to Azkaban without a trial or even an interview. But I think, based on Mr Dumbledore’s testimony, we can assume that Mr Crouch took Mr Dumbledore’s word that Sirius Black had to be guilty and sent him straight on to Azkaban. However, doubt has now been raised, and we need to discover if, in fact, the Ministry sent an innocent man to prison without trial.”

“Even if he is innocent of the original charges, he is not innocent of breaking out of Azkaban!” The Minister shouted.

“Believe it or not, Minister, it is not a crime to leave a prison you are visiting,” Bones said coolly. “And as Lord Black was not legally held in that prison, he was well within his rights to leave.”

Draco watched as the Minister paled. “Lord Black?”

“Yes,” Bones said. “Lord Black claimed his title several weeks ago and has been petitioning the ICW and the Ministry for a hearing or trial ever since.”

“But magic wouldn’t have allowed a guilty man to claim the title,” Fudge said stupidly.

“And thus more doubt is cast,” Bones said. “Additionally, it has been found magic still recognizes Lord Black as Harry Potter’s godfather and magical guardian.”

Again, Draco was grateful for the silencing wards.

“We can’t just declare his innocence,” Fudge said desperately. “This is all circumstantial.”

“It is,” Bones acknowledged. “Which is why Lord Black is waiting, under guard, to present his testimony under Veritaserum.”

“Hem, hem,” the toad-like creature next to Fudge said, clearing her throat in preparation to speak. “With the Kiss on sight order from the Minister in place, how is it that Mr Black has not been rendered incapable of testifying?”

Bones pursed her lips. “Madam Umbridge.  _ Lord _ Black turned himself in to the International Confederation of Wizards, who have sent him to us under the protection of their Hit Wizards. As you know, the ICW has banned the use of dementors in most cases, and they are quite vocal in their opposition to our use of dementors as guards and soul executioners. We are not legally allowed to enforce the Minister’s order.”

Fudge had turned grey, which satisfied Draco’s very soul.

“As it happens, we are ready for Lord Black at this time.” She rapped her gavel twice, and the side door through which Bones had entered opened, and Lord Sirius Black, in all his shiny, polished glory, walked through, unaided, but flanked by two extremely good-looking men in gold Hit Wizard robes.

Draco heard Harry snort, and he turned to his intended. “What?” he asked softly. 

“I think I’m looking at Sirius’ independence celebration right there,” Harry said quietly, trying not to laugh. That made Draco snort, too.

Sirius winked at the couple as he stood in front of the chair, his escorts arranging themselves on either side of it.

“Speak your oath, Lord Black,” Madam Bones said.

“I, Lord Sirius Orion Black of the House of Black, swear on my magic that the testimony that I am about to give in this hearing is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so far as I know it to be.” Having no wand, Sirius calmly manifested a ball of light in his hand, then extinguished it by closing his fist. He sat down in the chair, glared at the chains, and crossed his feet at the ankle. He remained unencumbered.

“The first question I must ask, Lord Black, is this: Will you be willing to give testimony under Veritaserum should it be required at a formal trial?”   
Sirius nodded, and said, clearly, “Yes, of course.”

“At this time, your oath is sufficient. Should this be challenged, Veritaserum will be used,” Bones said, then continued. “Were you the Potters’ Secretkeeper?”

“No, I was not.”

Draco marvelled at the silent bedlam.

“Do you know who the Secretkeeper was?”

“Yes, Madam.”

“Please explain to us what happened in your own words.”

“James came to me with the word that Dumbledore believed he, Lily, and the sprog to be in grave danger. He wanted our opinion about whether he should follow through with the decision to use the Fidelius Charm. At the time, Potter Manor had been burned to the ground by Death Eaters, and they’d settled down in a house at Godric’s Hollow. We went round and round about it for some time, but we finally agreed that with the wards Dumbledore helped set, and the Fidelius, the house was as well secured as we could make it.

“For operational security, we decided to leave Dumbledore out of the actual casting of the charm. Lily was gifted in charms and more than talented enough to do it herself. That left only the choice of Secretkeeper. In those initial discussions, which included Dumbledore’s input, we discussed me being the Secretkeeper. But in the end, I talked James into using Peter.”

“Why Peter Pettigrew?” Bones asked.

Sirius looked a little ashamed. “Peter was, I thought, not a very talented or charismatic wizard. I thought he’d be the last person anyone would think of when they thought of a Secretkeeper. James agreed and Peter was gracious about it. Lily cast the charm, Peter told me the secret, and I stayed in public, making a big splash of myself, drawing attention away, I thought.”

“What happened the night of October 31, 1981?” Bones asked.

“I felt the wards ping, and knew something had happened,” Sirius said. “I got to Godric’s Hollow as soon as I could, to see Hagrid picking Harry up out of his crib. James and Lily were dead, the house was on fire, and all I could think about was finding Peter. I thought the Death Eaters had gotten to him, and I needed to get him help. I gave Hagrid my motorcycle so that he had a way to get Harry to Hogwarts safely, and apparated to Peter’s flat.”

“And then?”

Sirius looked a little choked up. “It was perfect. No sign of a struggle at all. I turned around in his little space, and I realized that the secret hadn’t been tortured out of him at all. He’d given it away.”

Draco held on to Harry again, letting his intended squeeze as hard as he needed to.

“I decided to track him down,” Sirius went on, as if in a daze. “I shifted into my Animagus form, and found a scent trail.”

“You have an Animagus form?” Bones interrupted.

“Yes, I’m a Grim,” Sirius said. “I hadn’t registered the form in Britain, but it was registered with the ICW.”

“Hmmm.” Bones raised an eyebrow. “Continue.”

“I followed the scent trail to the street, and down to a local park, where I found Peter in the company of two masked and cloaked Death Eaters. They had him at wand point, and for a moment, I thought perhaps I’d gotten it wrong. But then I heard Peter say, ‘It’s not my fault it didn’t work! I told the Dark Lord where they lived. I didn’t know he would find trouble there!’”

Sirius looked down at his palms. “I snapped.”

Draco winced, and the crowd around him did, too. The Black temper was legendary.

“I don’t actually recall what happened next,” Sirius said quietly. “I came out of it when Peter cast ‘Bombarda’ at the gas line. We were blocks away from the park at that point. I saw him cut off his finger and transform--he has a rat for an animagus form--and head down into the sewer with the other rats. I just sat there, right there, on the ground, hysterical. 

“Everything went black then, and I woke up in Azkaban.”

“We found your wand in evidence,” Bones said. “For the record, the last three casts were ‘Stupefy’ or ‘Expelliarmus.’ As far as we could determine, you were not the one to cast ‘Bombarda,’ nor anything else that could be construed as illegal in your pursuit of Peter Pettigrew.”

Sirius looked visibly relieved by that.

“You may be excused, Lord Black. Please be seated at the defendant’s table.”

Sirius nodded, then, the Hit Wizards flanked him as he moved to the defendant’s table, in front of Harry, and sat down.

“We have another relevant witness,” Madame Bones said. “I call Mr Remus Lupin.”

Draco craned his neck looking for his former defence professor, who materialised from the back of the courtroom and made his way down to the chair.

“I object!” Fudge shouted, to rolls of eyes around the Wizengamot. “Lupin is a known werewolf!”

“Which means he struggles with a common health condition,” Bones said coolly. “We would also need to take precautions should we wish to arrest him, as he is likely physically stronger. However, Mr Lupin is a wizard as well, and more than capable of taking the oath.” She cleared her throat and looked up. “Mr Lupin, your oath?”

“I, Remus John Lupin, swear on my magic that the testimony that I am about to give in this hearing is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so far as I know it to be.” He lit the tip of his wand, then extinguished it and sat down.

“Mr Lupin, what do you know of the events surrounding the night of October 31, 1981?”

“At the time, I knew James and Lily Potter were in hiding. I believed their Secretkeeper to be Sirius Black. It was the only thing that could fit the facts that I knew at the time,” Remus said quietly. “I did not believe they would choose Peter, who was, in fact, a rat animagus. I thought it to be Sirius. When Lily and James died, I felt it. Their deaths snapped the pack bonds I had with them. I knew Harry lived, and I tried to get to Godric’s Hollow, but was held back by the werewolves in the pack I had been visiting.”

“Why did they hold you back?”

“The Ministry had a habit then of killing werewolves first, and never asking any questions about it,” Remus said frankly. “The pack was concerned that I would be killed if I rushed forward at that time.”

“And later?”

“I was devastated when I believed Sirius to be the one who betrayed James and Lily. I went to Dumbledore, who told me to lay low. He said Harry was safe, and that the Ministry would strongly object to a werewolf being anywhere near the Boy-Who-Lived. He wasn’t wrong.”

Madame Bones looked through her papers. “Is it true that you bore witness to the fact that Peter Pettigrew is alive?”   
“Yes, ma’am. At the end of Harry’s third year, with Sirius on the run, I saw Peter’s name on a magical artefact that I know to be accurate beyond doubt. It placed him on the Hogwarts grounds, and I rushed to the Shrieking Shack to find him cornered by Sirius, Harry, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley, in rat form. We forced his transformation to human and received a confession. Our intent, with Harry’s input, was to turn Peter in so that Sirius could get a hearing like this one and the true betrayer of the Potters could be put on trial.”   
“Why did you not?”

Remus looked ashamed. “It was the night of the full moon, and I’d forgotten to take my Wolfsbane potion.”

Draco saw silent gasps of horror erupt throughout the warded hall and turned to see his father’s eyes glittering at him through the crowd. They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, but Draco turned back when Remus started to speak again.

“I started to transform, and Sirius dropped his guard against Peter to engage me and protect the children. Peter escaped.”

Draco had wondered about that. 

Madame Bones asked, “Would you be willing to testify under Veritaserum if required?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Remus said. “I can also provide memories.”

“Thank you, Mr Lupin. You may be excused.”

Remus left his seat and headed back to his spot in the back row, near the top entrance to the courtroom.

Madame Bones looked through her paperwork, then shuffled it together and stacked it before looking out at Sirius.

“Lord Black, it seems there are numerous things that counteract the common narrative that suggests you were the one who betrayed the Potters. Certainly, there’s enough evidence here to cast doubt on the story that was told at the time of your illegal incarceration. As this is a formal public hearing and not a trial, there is no need for a sentencing or determination of guilt or innocence; there is only a need to decide if a trial should be held.”

She looked sternly over the room. “Please remember that gossip is not evidence. Please remember that family reputation does not supersede individual actions. Please remember that long-held prejudice does not supersede truth.”

Draco saw members of the Wizengamot shake their heads, presumably grumbling under the silencing wards.

“Due to lack of evidence and the abundance of doubt, I am unable to bind Sirius Black over for trial. The Kiss-on-sight order is hereby lifted. Lord Black is free to go. Lord Black, I suggest you keep your escorts until your safety from this body can be guaranteed.”

Sirius looked relieved and composed. “I believe that might take some time, Madame Bones.”

She smiled slightly, then banged her gavel. “This concludes the hearing.” She lifted the silencing wards.

Bedlam.

**Chapter 9**

The following weeks to the spring holidays seemed to fly. Draco, busily studied for exams, wrote cheeky messages to Harry in their twinned journals and met up with his intended whenever possible in the Room of Requirement. 

Outside of Hogwarts, Draco knew that Sirius continued working with Dumbledore to find and eliminate the Horcruxes and his mother did the background research that would allow them to do so. The tracking charm they were able to use on the diary led them into several places, including Hogwarts and Gringotts.

“The problem,” Sirius told the boys over the mirror one night while they were meeting in the room, “is that Gringotts and Hogwarts are both large places, so we’re looking to see what’s a logical place within those spaces in which to look for those.”

“Makes sense,” Draco said. “I mean, it’s likely the Horcrux in Gringotts is in someone’s vault, so you’ll have to identify who among Moldy’s followers is wealthy enough to have a vault and stupid enough to store something like that in it.”

“I can’t imagine they’re all that happy to have something like a Horcrux in the bank,” Harry observed. “Have you tried asking?”

“The best I could get, given the object itself, is that if we could narrow it down, curse breakers could be assigned to go through the vault in question and confiscate the Horcrux, as having it in a vault is a violation of the bank’s terms,” Sirius said. “Which is helpful, but we still need to do a bit of detective work. We did find one Horcrux at my mother’s old house, of all places, and another apparently sits in the house Riddle’s mother was raised in. We’re going for that one next.”

Harry leaned in to look at Sirius. “What about Hogwarts? Does Dumbledore have any ideas?”

“Well, he suggested the chamber of secrets,” Sirius allowed. “And don’t think you’re going to get out of explaining that whole fiasco. We’d need you, Harry, to help us access the chamber. But we’d like you to wait to investigate until an adult wizard can go with you. And otherwise, he’s stumped. The wards should have alerted him to such a dark object.”   
“Unless it’s hidden from the wards,” Draco murmured. 

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment, then called out, “Room, can you produce Voldemort’s Horcrux?”

A table in front of them shimmered, and a tarnished tiara that looked entirely innocent fell on top of it with a clunk.   
“Huh,” Harry said, and turned the mirror around to show Sirius. “Found it.”   
Sirius looked gobsmacked. “Well, hell.”

“Is that Ravenclaw’s diadem?” Draco asked, peering at it closely.

“What’s a diadem?” Harry asked.

“Well, it’s a kind of tiara. If this one is Ravenclaw’s--and I think it must be, because it’s got her motto on it, see?” Draco gestured to the print that read, “Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.” “It’s spelled to impart wisdom to the wearer.”

“We destroyed Slytherin’s locket at Grimmauld Place,” Sirius said quietly. “If that’s Ravenclaw’s diadem, then it suggests Riddle was looking to make Horcruxes from the founder’s objects.”

“What’s still around that belonged to them?” Harry asked, conjuring up a silk bag in which to gingerly place the diadem.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Sirius said. “I’ll get in touch with Narcissa. And Dumbledore, I guess. Actually, you two should bring that to Dumbledore and let him destroy it. We’ve been using the Sword of Gryffindor, since it's imbued with basilisk venom. Works a treat.”

Draco nodded, and Harry picked up the bag carefully. “Right, we’ll head to his office now.”

“Sounds good,” Sirius said. “Take care of yourselves, please.”

Harry waved casually as he ended the call. “Shall we, then?”

“Yes, let’s.”

...

Dumbledore looked gobsmacked to see the tarnished tiara and hurried over to them from behind his big desk in the Headmaster’s office. 

“It’s Ravenclaw’s diadem,” Draco told the Headmaster. “Pity it has to be destroyed.”

Dumbledore halted his examination of it. “Whatever for? Think of all the knowledge we could gain from using it!” 

Harry and Draco exchanged a nervous look, and Draco regretted not finding another witness for the Horcrux’s destruction. 

“It’s a Horcrux, Headmaster,” Harry said gently. “We need to destroy them all, remember?”

Dumbledore blinked, and Draco’s worry increased. “But if I just put it on my head, like it tells me to, we might find another way!”

“Headmaster, don’t you think it’s a better idea to get someone to help you?” Draco asked. “You need a witness to this moment, surely? An adult wizard, perhaps? Shall we call Professor Snape?”

“He’ll want it for himself,” Dumbledore said rapidly. “He’ll want it and I won’t get to know everything.” The ageing Headmaster reached for the diadem, and Harry stunned him.

“Nice work, love,” Draco said. He regarded the Headmaster. “He obviously felt some sort of compulsion that we didn’t.”

“It’s a little weird,” Harry agreed. “Why this one?”

“Maybe because it’s been in Hogwarts this whole time?” Draco speculated. “Hard to tell. Why don’t you call Sirius and let him know what happened, and I’ll look around for something to destroy that thing with.”

He started exploring the Headmaster’s office while Harry spoke with Sirius. Numerous focus objects for personal wards, tracking devices, and other magical objects dotted the shelves, and the Sorting Hat took pride of place. He spotted nothing that could be used to destroy the Horcrux.

“Right,” he heard Harry say. “Draco, Sirius said they used the Sword of Gryffindor to destroy the locket.”

“I see no sword of any kind over here,” Draco said, turning to face his intended. “Just a bunch of magical devices and the Sorting Hat.”

“Can you get the Sorting Hat, then? I think I can call it to me through the Hat,” Harry said.

“Really?” Draco asked, reaching up to get the Hat.

“Well, yeah.” Harry kept an eye on the Headmaster as he placed the diadem on the smooth stone floor of his office. “That’s how I got the Sword to kill the basilisk with second year.”

“You know, I start to think I know everything about you, and then out pop out with something like that.” Draco handed Harry the Hat. “Do your thing, then.”

Harry reached into the Hat and pulled out the Sword of Gryffindor. “See?”

“Well, and I was so worried, too,” Draco said dryly. “Do the honours?”

Harry swung. The sword fell on the diadem, slicing it cleanly down the middle. A black spirit appeared, screamed, and dissipated.

“Done and dusted,” Harry said. “Think I’ll keep the sword. We should send for Madam Pomfrey. The Headmaster is not a young man.”

“And he’s a confused man, as well,” Draco agreed. “Dobby!”

The elf appeared. “Master calls Dobby?”

“Please let Madam Pomfrey know that the Headmaster has been stunned and is currently incapacitated in his office. We’ll wait with him.” Draco eyed Harry’s sword. “Also, can you please conceal this sword at Grimmauld Place? We’ll need it to destroy the others, and I’m afraid the Headmaster may be uniquely susceptible to the magics on the Horcrux.”

“Dobby can do that.” The elf took the hilt of the sword gingerly. “I’ll hand it to Master Padfoot directly, first.”

“Thanks, Dobby.”

Dobby popped out, and Draco looked at the man on the floor. “Guess we just wait for Madam Pomfrey then.”

The couple had been keeping vigil for just five minutes when the Matron bustled in. “What’s this about Dumbledore being stunned in his office?”

Harry spoke up. “He was being irrational, Madam Pomfrey. That object there--” He nodded toward the broken halves of the diadem-- “seemed to be calling to him. It needed to be destroyed, and it appeared to be doing some kind of mind magic on him. I had to stun him for his own safety. We destroyed the object, but we wanted to make sure he was safe in your hands before we left.”

“Quite right, too,” the Medwitch said, kneeling next to the Headmaster and doing a scan. “Oh, dear.”

“What?” Draco asked.

“Oh, well, I can’t really say, as you’re not him or his next of kin,” Madam Pomfrey said. “But he needs St. Mungo’s, certainly. If you could go inform Minerva about what’s happened and that she’s in charge at the moment? I will take him through the Floo.”

“Certainly, Madam,” Draco said. “May we help in any other way?”

“If you could place those pieces into a silk bag--I have one here in my kit--and place them in my kit, that would be helpful,” Pomfrey said. “Staff will need to know what they’re working with to remove the damage here.”

Draco and Harry looked at each other. “The thing is, Madam, is that the object may still be dangerous,” Harry said slowly. 

“The staff at St. Mungo’s are best equipped to deal with such things,” the Matron said tartly. “Please do as I say. I will bear your warning in mind.”

Draco shrugged when Harry looked at him again. “She’s not wrong.”

Harry retrieved two silk bags from the medical kit and used one to pick up the diadem pieces before placing them in the other. “Here you go, then,” he said, tucking the bags back into the kit. “We’ll head off to see the Professor.” They watched as she disappeared through the Headmaster’s Floo to St. Mungo’s, then made their way over to the Tower to Professor McGonagall’s office. 

The Professor was not pleased to hear that the Headmaster had been taken to St. Mungo’s but gave them each ten points for their clear thinking and Harry’s good reflexes. 

“I cannot fathom what that man was thinking,” she muttered before waving them off. “Head back to your houses now, gentlemen. Curfew’s nearly upon us.”

“Yes, Professor,” the pair chimed, before turning away to head to the landing, from which they would part ways.

…

With a little detective work, Sirius and Narcissa had determined that the vault in Gringotts that most likely contained the Horcrux had to belong to one of Voldemort’s old, loyal followers. That narrowed things down a bit. The pair had decided to focus on those followers in Azkaban, first. With the bank’s help, the vaults that still belonged to those followers were targeted first, and curse breakers found the Horcrux in Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault.

It was encased in Helga Hufflepuff’s golden cup.

“Destroying these objects is practically a crime against magic,” Draco grumbled to Harry one evening in the Room. “Moldyshorts ought to be held accountable for them.”

“Who says he’s not?” Harry asked calmly. “I’m sure whatever awaits him in the afterlife won’t be pretty.”

They were cuddled up on the softa, occasionally sharing a kiss. “So what’s left?” Draco asked drowsily.

“They think, arithmantically, that he was attempting to make six Horcruxes,” Harry said. “Sirius said that’s what the spell pointed to, and they found one under the floorboards of an old shack. It had a compulsion spell on it, too, but your mum dealt with it pretty easily, I guess.”

“So, we’ve destroyed yours, Slytherin’s, Hufflepuff’s, Ravenclaw’s, the diary, and the mysterious object under the floorboards.” Draco ticked them off on his fingers. “That’s six. Moldy himself makes seven. So all that’s left is whatever bit of him is still floating around?”

“Yeah,” Harry confirmed. 

“Do they know how Dumbledore is doing?” Draco asked.

“They haven’t heard anything,” Harry said. “He’s just stuck in St. Mungo’s, as far as I know.”

“You didn’t stun him that hard,” Draco said, a bit miffed. 

“No, so that means there’s something else going on,” Harry said. “I mean, they wouldn’t be keeping him otherwise.”

“Guess it’s none of our business.” Draco stretched like a cat and relished the feeling of his body rubbing against Harry’s. “How are you preparing for the third task?”

“Eh, it’s a maze,” Harry said. “Some creatures, some evasive tactics. Mostly I’m just studying new defensive spells like mad. It’s like a comprehensive exam for DADA.”

Draco snorted. “Well, then. Want some practice?”

“Not right now.” Harry clung to Draco a bit. “Want cuddles.” 

“Fine,” Draco said indulgently, “but I’ll give you a run for your money tomorrow night.”

“Deal.”

…

Over the following weeks, Draco joined Ron, Hermione, and a host of their friends from all houses in training Harry to manage whatever came at him through the maze that had taken over the Quidditch pitch. They used an empty classroom donated to the cause by Professor McGonagall, who thought it best to keep an eye on the goings-on. 

Professor Dumbledore had yet to come back to school. Apparently, St. Mungo’s staff had found a long-term, steadily worsening curse that appeared to hamper the brain’s cognitive abilities.

“Sirius says Dumbledore’s brother told him about the curse,” Harry confided one night. “It’s been acting on him for a long time. They think either Moldyshorts did it or ordered it done back when he was first rising.”

“I suppose that would make sense,” Draco allowed. “A truly Slytherin move. Take a strong wizard out of the game by allowing his mental faculties to deteriorate. Sort of smacks of revenge, too. Taking away that which made the man truly great.”

“Making it difficult for him to process information correctly, unable to analyze it right. Poor decision-making was the least of it, I guess,” Harry said. “He won’t be coming back to school this year. And even with the curse lifted, he’ll have a lot to process.”

“Well, at least the Horcruxes are gone,” Draco said. “Merlin knows that would make everything more difficult.” 

“We still don’t know who entered me in the tournament,” Harry added quietly. “Or for what purpose.”

Draco took Harry’s hand. “So we’d best prepare you for the last task with as many spells as we can think of, Hermione can find, and Ron can stand being hit with.”

Harry laughed, but nodded. 

…

They took time off from training at the beginning of June to celebrate Draco’s fifteenth birthday. Dobby brought Draco’s favourite chocolate cake, and Harry presented him with another piece of manly heirloom jewellery that made him squeal. The enchanted gold chain could be worn as a necklace or with a pocket watch, but it was meant to protect the wearer from most mind magics, making it quite useful. Harry got a thorough snog for his thoughtfulness.

A few days later, Draco beckoned Harry into a private alcove near the classroom they were using to train in.

“I have something for you,” he said, holding out a platinum bracelet that matched the one Harry had given him before the second task. “It’s got the same tracking spells on it as the one you gave me. If something should happen in the third task and you disappear…”

“You can find me.” Harry put it on without question. “Thank you, Draco.”

“I’m going to sit with my father,” Draco admitted. “If you’re taken, we’ll be right behind you.”

Harry kissed Draco’s cheek, then leaned back to look into Draco’s worried grey eyes. “That’s wise, love. Smart of you to think of it.”

“I just want you to be safe,” Draco said softly. “Safe, and loved. That’s all.”

“That’s all I want for you, too,” Harry whispered.

A voice from near them said, rudely, “And all I want is for the nauseating romance in the halls to stop.” The couple looked up to see Fred and George Weasley grinning at them.

“Right. Might be catching,” one twin said, looking at them with a wicked grin.

Harry rolled his eyes, but let Draco go, and led the way into the training room.

**Chapter 10:**

The morning of the third task saw Draco up and out to the Great Hall early. His parents were bringing Sirius along with them to meet Harry after breakfast in what was being billed as a chance for the champions to spend the day with their families before the event commenced that evening.

_ We who are about to die salute you, _ Draco thought snarkily as he reached for the porridge and fruit. 

He ate calmly as he waited for Harry to make his appearance at breakfast. His intended did not know about his visitors, and Draco planned to make the most of the surprise. 

He watched as the Gryffindors started filtering in, Harry embedded between Hermione and Ron as they approached the table and started loading up breakfast. Draco finished his own meal and sauntered over to pester them while making sure Harry ate.

“Good morning, love,” he greeted Harry as he sat across from him at the Gryffindor table and nudged the bowl of porridge toward him. “This is really good today. Oh, and look, fresh strawberries.”

Harry looked at Draco with fond exasperation. “I can fill my own plate, Draco.”

“Yes, but it’s just so yummy!” Draco said, making exaggerated high-pitched noises and making their section of the table crack up.

Harry rolled his eyes but loaded some porridge and strawberries on his plate. He also said nothing when Draco added a peeled, hard-boiled egg, and poured him a cup of tea with milk and sugar. He did, however, give Draco a look that told him he knew exactly what he was doing, and wasn’t sure if he appreciated it or not. 

Draco’s return look essentially told him to suck it up. 

Harry picked up his spoon and started in on the porridge. “You’re right,” he said, surprised. “This is good.”

“As if I’d let you eat something that wasn’t,” Draco mocked. “The elves here really know how to make porridge taste scrummy.”

Draco kept up the light patter, adding bits of interesting foods and fruits to Harry’s plate seemingly through sleight-of-hand. The Gryffs didn’t know quite what to do with him, but that was fine. He only needed to distract them, and Harry, from the nerves that Draco could see were beginning to take him over.

If something were going to happen, it would happen tonight.

Still, Draco did his best to keep Harry focused so that when Professor McGonagall approached with the news that the champion’s families were waiting for them, Draco himself was a bit startled.

“You don’t mean the Dursleys, do you, Professor?” Harry asked politely, and a bit desperately.

“No, of course not.” Professor McGonagall looked as if she’d eaten something sour. “I believe you’ll find a marauder or two waiting for you.”

Harry looked elated, bolted the rest of his tea, and started up from the table before pausing to hold a hand out to Draco. “Come on,” he said, and his smile went all the way up to his eyes.

Draco hopped up and jumped over the table to grab Harry’s hand and lace their fingers together.

“Mr Malfoy! A little decorum, please!” the professor tutted. Notably, she didn’t take points. Draco didn’t bat an eyelash as he called out, “Yes, professor!” while walking away at high speed toward the salon off the atrium of the Great Hall.

Harry’s brightly amused face made the effort more than worthwhile.

They approached the salon, and Harry poked his head in. “Sirius!” he exclaimed and dragged Draco in after him. “Narcissa, Lucius.” Harry nodded to Draco’s parents in turn, and Draco waved with his free hand.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“It’s customary for the champions’ families to spend the day with them prior to the third task of the Triwizard Tournament,” Narcissa explained calmly. She looked amused. 

“Right, just in case they die,” Sirius agreed, earnestly.

Narcissa slapped the back of his head, and Harry burst out laughing.

Draco noted that his father appeared nonplussed by the byplay, but not put out over it. Draco grinned at him. “Have they been acting like miscreant siblings in your presence for long, Father?”

Lucius cocked his head to the side. “No, actually, though I’m not surprised. How are you, son?”

“I’m well,” Draco said, swinging the hand that held Harry’s. “Very well, indeed.”

“Good,” Lucius said, and Draco could see that he meant it.

“Darlings, the Headmistress has given us permission to take you both around the grounds a bit,” Narcissa said. “We’ll have a stroll. It’s a beautiful day. Maybe we could have a picnic by the lake later.”

“I’d really, really like that,” Harry said, and Draco nodded, grin still firmly in place.

They strolled off around the grounds and found a nice clearing just inside the forest. Lucius cast privacy charms, and Sirius transfigured some stumps into nice, squashy armchairs they all curled up in. “So, I’ve news,” Lucius said. “It appears that the man claiming to be Mad-Eye Moody may not be who he says he is.”

Harry looked up, startled. “Then who is he?”

“I think, though I have no proof, that the man in question might be Bartemius Crouch, Junior,” Lucius said. “You know that a focus of the investigation here has been on who might have entered your name in the tournament, Harry?”

“Yes, of course,” Harry said. “Though with one thing and another, I’d kind of forgot.”   
“Well, we didn’t,” Lucius said, gesturing to Narcissa and Sirius. “While they set out on their task, which I still know nothing about, I set myself to looking toward that angle. It had to be someone with access to the Goblet and to you, in order to be effective, but all of those closest to you would normally be untouchable.” He fell silent for a moment. “Of them all, the most suspicious was your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I have difficulty believing that Moody would not take every opportunity he could to make my life miserable while I am visiting Hogwarts. He detests me. And yet every time I have appeared on Hogwarts grounds this year, the man has made himself scarce. This makes me think that Moody is an imposter of some sort, or under the control of someone else.”

Lucius conjured up a cup of tea and sipped from it. “So I began to look into the remaining Death Eaters, and I think Moody might be somehow under the influence of Baremius Crouch, Junior.”

“Barty?” Sirius asked. “I thought he died in Azkaban. I ought to know. I was there.”

“Yes. However, I discovered that Crouch Senior took his wife to visit Junior in Azkaban and that Junior died very shortly thereafter. When I thought about who might have had the motive to kill Harry, Junior was one of the first Death Eaters I thought of,” Lucius countered. “He had an unhealthy relationship with the Dark Lord, as did many of his followers who ended up in Azkaban. But he was the only one not accounted for if one discounts his death.”

“And why did you?” Draco wanted to know.

“I merely decided to confirm that he was, in fact, dead, and had his remains exhumed. Crouch Senior disappeared some time ago, no idea where he ended up, which is suspicious in and of itself for those of us who are paying attention,” Lucius explained. “And the remains in the grave at Azkaban showed traces of Polyjuice.”

“So the person buried at Azkaban is not Junior?” Harry asked.

“No, and I suspect they are of his mother, who was ill when she visited, and was also said to have died shortly after,” Lucius said. “Coupled with the fact that Senior sacked his house-elf after the World Cup for failing in her duty, a disturbing scenario comes into play. I suspect that Senior freed Junior and was keeping him under control with his house-elf in attendance.”

“And he lost control of Junior at the world cup,” Sirius concluded.

“Yes.” Lucius sipped again. 

“You think Junior pulled a swap with Polyjuice so that he could get into Hogwarts and have access to Harry,” Sirius said flatly.

“I do, yes,” Lucius said. “But as I said, no proof.”   
They all pondered this silently for a long moment.

“Well,” Harry said, breaking the silence. “What does that mean for the Third Task?”

Lucius pursed his lips. “I think we must assume that it is somehow rigged. It would not at all surprise me to see you trapped at the end of it.”

“For what purpose?” Draco asked.

Sirius’ eyes glittered. “To either kill my pup or use him to resurrect Moldyshorts.”

“How would they do that?” Harry asked.

Narcissa swept an elegant hand out in front of her. “There are several rituals to do so, but the most logical and easiest is the one that requires blood of the enemy, bones of the father, and flesh of the servant.”

“Ick,” Draco said, involuntarily, and the adults chuckled.

“So in order to do that,” Harry said slowly, “he would find my blood, his enemy’s blood, attractive.”

“I think so, yes,” Narcissa said.

“So, rigged,” Draco said, thinking ahead. “He needs your blood in ritual, so he’ll want to transport you somewhere.”

“The task is to get to the centre of the maze.” Harry swallowed. “Something there, then?”

“Probably the Triwizard Cup,” Sirius said. “He’ll have turned it into a portkey or something that will trigger a transport spell when you touch it.”

“Lovely.” Harry looked down at his hands.

“Well, so.” Draco lifted Harry’s chin. “We beat him at his own game.”

Harry lifted a brow, imitating Sirius. “How?”

“Make sure you get to the cup first, for one,” Draco said, “let it take you, and we’ll follow. With any luck, we can prevent the ritual altogether. If we can’t, well, we know he’s just as a man at this point, and he can be killed or taken into custody.”

Sirius pulled out his mirror. “Shall I tell Amelia?”   
“You can tell your shag that we suspect foul play tonight, certainly,” Narcissa said bluntly. “But I think it unwise to interfere until events play out. We still don’t know where the Dark Lord is, and we can’t be sure we’re right until it happens. We know the Ministry won’t interfere with the tournament.”

Lucius tightened his jaw. “I can’t hear anymore of this. Apparently.” He lifted his left sleeve, and the mark was pulsating. “It’s disloyal.”

The discussion ended abruptly, and Sirius went off by himself for a quick walk in the woods. Draco squeezed Harry’s hand and tapped Harry’s bracelet. Harry got the message.

…

They spent a pleasant day roaming about the grounds, and after a dinner that saw Draco again adding delectable tidbits to Harry’s plate in a mysterious fashion, the group wandered down to the Quidditch pitch together. Draco waved his parents and Sirius off for a moment at the start of the maze, to give him a chance to be alone with Harry.

“Not subtle, that,” Harry observed as Draco made a shooing motion with his hands at the adults.

“Not meant to be, at all,” Draco retorted. “I just want a moment alone with you.”   
“There are still a lot of people, Dragon,” Harry warned him. He looked around, where a crowd was milling about and looking for seats. “Best be cautious about what you say.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Slytherin. No problem.” He caught Harry’s hands with his own and looked into the laughing green eyes. “Just. Be careful.”

Harry squeezed Draco’s hands. “Of course I will.”

“Let me rephrase.” Draco drew a deep breath, held it, and released it as he tipped forward to press his forehead to Harry’s. “Be brave like a Gryffindor, but think like a Slytherin.” 

“I’ll do my best, love,” Harry said softly.

“And try to take the Cup by yourself if you can,” Draco cautioned. “Beat the others quickly and go. We’ll be right behind you.”

“Let’s hope we’re wrong,” Harry muttered, “but I hear you. We don’t need anyone else in the crossfire.”

Draco kissed him briefly, then stood back. “Go. Win. I know you can do this.”

Harry rolled his shoulders. “Right. I’ve got this.”

“You do.” Draco squeezed Harry’s hands again, then let go. “We’ll be watching.” He walked backward for a few paces as Harry waved at him, and then turned to jog up the stadium steps to find his parents.

They were seated, high up, with Sirius and Remus next to them. “Professor Lupin,” Draco said politely. “Pleasure to see you.”

“Mr Malfoy,” Lupin acknowledged. 

Draco glanced at Sirius and raised an eyebrow, and his cousin shrugged. Not in on the plan, then, Draco thought. Interesting.

He turned his attention to the field, where Ludo Bagman had just begun the commentary. “Glory, yada, yada,” Draco muttered, mocking the man to amuse his father. Lucius remained blank-faced, but Draco could see the twinkle and slight creases at the corners of his eyes that meant he found the mocking funny.

He watched as the champions were introduced, and a horn blew to let Harry into the maze. From their vantage point, they could just see the top of the maze, and Draco could follow Harry as he made missteps, backtracked, and ultimately made his way closer to the centre. While it was hard to tell just who was who and what was what, particularly in the darkened stadium, Draco could vaguely see that Harry had made his way close to the centre. He watched as red sparks went up from a location near him, and then another set of red sparks closer to the centre. Neither marked Harry’s location, however, so Draco played with his bracelet for a moment.

Near the centre, he watched as the clearing there, which contained a pedestal that held the Triwizard Cup, began to glow with light. He could see that it was going to come down to a footrace between Harry and Cedric Diggory, a race Diggory would have run if not for the timely intervention of an acromantula. Harry rescued Cedric. “He’s such a Gryffindor,” Draco muttered, not noticing his mother’s faint smile or his cousin’s broad grin at that statement, intent on viewing his intended’s next move.

Harry helped Cedric sit down, then ran for the cup. He grabbed it and disappeared in a whirling flash of Portkey magic.

“Potter is first to the cup, and he will now appear right here on the dais!” Bagman bellowed.

A beat followed, then two.

“Right here, right now!” Bagman shouted again.

But Harry failed to appear, and Draco’s bracelet lit up.

“That’s our cue, Father,” Draco said, and held the hand with the bracelet out. Lucius grasped it, Sirius grabbed Draco, and Lucius spun on his heel.

Something felt wrong. 

Draco landed with a crash on a piece of hard rock that at best, left a bruise on his tailbone. He quickly took stock of his body to be sure he had all his parts. His father had never, once, splinched anyone he’d side apparated. He’d been prepared for two passengers. This shouldn’t have happened.

“Draco!” He heard Sirius call for him. 

“Here,” Draco said hoarsely, and his cousin, who also was intact, found him. “What happened?”

“Bounced off wards,” Sirius said. “Look.”

Draco turned around.

They were in a graveyard. A glimmering dome had been cast over a section of it, and Draco could see that Harry was bound to a grave marker inside it. 

“Where’s Father?” Draco asked, immediately.

“He didn’t bounce.” Sirius pointed to a figure at Harry’s back. “He’s got a Dark Mark. I think Moldyshorts cast a ward to keep out any but those marked by him.”

Draco let out a string of profanity that Sirius looked oddly proud of.

“Impressive vocabulary,” Sirius observed. “Now, let’s get a little closer.”

The pair snuck up on the dome, keeping to the shadows, until they could hear what was being said inside it. 

Harry looked unconscious, to Draco’s dismay.

“He’s been knocked out,” Draco whispered to Sirius, who hastily cast a Muffliato charm to mask their sounds. “What’s Father doing?”

“He’s...well, it appears that he’s helping Peter Pettigrew get a large cauldron set up. Is he under a compulsion, or just waiting for the right moment?” Sirius asked aloud.

“He knows we’re out here, but he also knows we can’t get in there,” Draco reasoned. “He’s playing along until he can find a way to get them both out of there.”

“Preferably before Moldy gets resurrected,” Sirius muttered. 

“Unless he’s being compelled to help.” Draco said it flatly and looked at his hands.

“Hey, none of that,” Sirius cautioned. “Your father made a huge mistake, and old Lucy and I have gone round about it, but never doubt he is doing his best here.”

They watched in silence as Pettigrew raised a bone from the grave Harry was standing on, then dropped it in the cauldron. The rat then took blood from Harry’s already bleeding forehead and flung the few drops into the mix. Finally, the rat cut off his hand, and it fell into the cauldron.

“That is disgusting.” Draco shook his head. “C’mon, Father.”

As if he heard his son, Lucius looked straight up and into Draco’s eyes. He mouthed, “Stay there,” and withdrew his wand from the cane it normally hid in. 

Harry’s eyes had slitted open, taking in his surroundings as he came awake under a silently cast “Rennervate,” and regained the use of his hands with the silent spell to remove his bindings. While Pettigrew was distracted, Lucius also managed to summon Harry’s wand and pass it to him.

“Robe me,” a high-pitched, rough voice said, and Draco’s attention snapped to the cauldron, from which a monstrous-looking pale creature had emerged. “Robe me, and hand me my wand.”

Draco swallowed back vomit as the hideous snake-like wraith accepted the black robes Pettigrew drew over him and took back his wand. “Now we will see who remembers,” it hissed. “Give me your arm.”

“My Lord,” Lucius said quietly. “It might be better to wait until we can ascertain what the boy knows. It would not do, of course, to reveal your hand too early.”

“Ah,” the creature paused. “My wily friend. Of course. That might be better. I know you’re awake, Mr Potter.”

The last two words were spat out. Harry slitted his eyes open a bit further. “Wow,” he said. “You look like a nightmare. Not at all like your teen self.”

“I have a body,” the creature--Draco refused to think of it as anything else--hissed. “And so I have my magic. That is all I need. And now, I need to know what you know about me.  _ Crucio.” _

A shield shimmered into view in front of Harry at the last moment, and the curse was diverted until Voldemort stopped it. “What is this?” he hissed again. “Wormtail, what have you done?”   
“I’ve done nothing, My Lord,” Wormtail said. “I’ve done only as you asked.”

“Where is this boy’s wand?” 

Draco saw the “Oh, shite” look cross Wormtail’s face and didn’t care. 

“Ah, I disarmed him when I stunned him,” the rat hedged. 

“And where is his wand now?” Voldemort demanded.

“Right here,” Harry said, flashing his wand, and snapped out, “ _ Stupefy _ !”

The flash of red light was countered. “You’re armed, and you’re no longer bound. My, my. You do have hidden talents.”

“One or two,” Harry said coolly. “Perhaps.”

Draco could tell that Harry was doing his best to divert attention from Lucius, to claim he’d had the skill to do a wordless shield cast. And he could tell, too, the instant that Voldemort realised that Lucius had betrayed him. The next  _ Crucio  _ flew directly at his father, who took it and fell.

Harry yelled, “No!” and sent an “ _ Expelliarmus!” _ right at Voldemort, who wasn’t quick enough to deflect. The wand went sailing, but the creature recovered quickly, summoning the wand back to hand wandlessly.

“Protecting each other, how quaint,” Voldemort hissed. “Why would my most faithful help you? Why would anyone help such a weak, useless boy?”

“Stopped you in your tracks, though, didn’t I?” Harry noted, wand up and ready. “When I was only a baby. Oh, and when I was 11. And 13. Oh, wait; that’s three times I’ve defeated you, arsehole.”   
Several things happened at once. Voldemort hissed out  _ “Avada Kedavra,” _ and green light flashed from his wand. Draco heard a pop, and his father suddenly appeared right in front of Harry.

Lucius fell, the green light having taken him right in the chest. 

And Draco screamed with rage, his magic shredding the ward that kept Sirius and him out of the protected area. He barreled into the space in between Harry and Voldemort, to get to his father. Sirius followed, quickly, and Harry jumped out of Sirius’ way as both snapped off “ _ Reducto!”  _ curses.

Voldemort’s head exploded.

The pieces spattered everywhere, but Draco paid no attention as he rushed to his father. Lucius had fallen in a slump, face down in the dirt, and Draco gently turned him over, not registering the murmured  _ “Stupefy!”  _ behind him that knocked Pettigrew out, or the low “Amelia Bones” that signalled someone making a mirror call. He held his father’s hand, deaf to the world that moved around him, until he registered Harry’s presence at his side. He didn’t set his father’s hand down; no, he wasn’t ready for that. But he leaned into Harry, his head tucked into Harry’s shoulder. 

“Draco, love,” Harry said. “Your mum is here. Do you think you can let go?”

Draco shook his head negatively and burrowed further into Harry’s shoulder. Harry hugged him with the arm that had somehow tucked itself around Draco without his noticing. Vaguely, he registered his mother’s presence at his other side.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy,” he heard his mother say, sharply, in a tone that brooked no disagreement. “You will sit up, and you will act as befits a Malfoy and a Black before the Aurors get here.”

Draco moved to sit, slowly, trying to obey as Harry helped him up. “He’s dead, Mum,” Draco croaked. 

“I know, darling, I know. But we must protect our position,” Narcissa said, calmly, though tears glimmered in her eyes. “With Sirius and Harry as our witnesses, you must take your father’s ring.”

Draco realised that the hand he held bore the Malfoy lordship ring, and he choked.

“And if it rejects me?” he asked hoarsely. “I couldn’t save him.”

“You did your best.” Sirius took a seat on the ground across from him. “You took those wards down when you saw him fall. It was quite a feat of magic.”

Draco dimly remembered that. In fact, he realised he was feeling quite tired.

“Best take the ring before the magical exhaustion truly sets in, love,” Narcissa said. “Please.”

Draco slowly let go of his father’s hand so that he could take it in both of his own, and gently work the ring off Lucius’ finger.    
He sniffled a bit as he realised tears were dripping down his face, but as he set the ring on his own finger, Draco said, “I claim my father’s ring, that I might honour the Malfoy legacy.”

Time seemed to slow down to a trickle as Draco fell under the ring’s spell. A warm presence sunk through him, looking through every crevice in his psyche, healing his body, mind, and spirit as it tapped gently on his magical core.

_ Yes, of course, _ he whispered to it.  _ All I am is tied up with you, now. _

The presence sang, and the world came back into sharp relief. He noted that the graveyard now held several people, including the Aurors and the Minister. 

Amelia Bones cut off Cornelius Fudge before he could approach the couple--no, the family--still seated around the body of Lucius Malfoy. “Lord Malfoy,” she acknowledged his new title as she addressed him. “Can you please tell us what you witnessed here?”

Draco looked at his ring, then straightened his shoulders. Beside him, Harry followed suit. “That man,” he pointed to Peter Pettigrew, “attempted to bring back Lord Voldemort from beyond the grave. He planned to use Harry’s blood to do it. When my father and I realised Harry had been taken somewhere other than the tournament stage, we used my bracelet to track him. Sirius came along.

“When we got here, Sirius and I bounced off the wards, but my father was able to get inside. Harry was bound, there.” Draco gestured to the grave marker. “While that man conducted whatever ritual he was after doing, my father managed to revive, free, and arm Harry. When the creature that emerged from the cauldron tried to kill Harry, my father stepped between them and took the curse. He died. I’m afraid I’m not sure what happened then.”

Harry took up the tale. “Draco shredded the wards to get to his father. Sirius and I each sent a Reductor curse at the creature. Its head exploded. Sirius stunned Pettigrew, and I came over to support my boyfriend.”

“Betrothed,” Draco corrected him, lacing their fingers together. “Please.”

Harry cocked his head to the side, then nodded. “Betrothed.”

“Terrible business,” Fudge said from behind Madam Bones. “Just terrible.”   
“Minister,” Draco said icily. “If you would leave us to our grief, I’d appreciate it. Perhaps issue a statement to the Prophet about the incident when you announce Harry as the winner of the Triwizard Tournament?”

“Ah, a good idea,” Fudge said. “Of course, Lord Malfoy. I’ll look forward to meeting with you at your earliest convenience.”

_ Which will be approximately when hell freezes over, _ Draco thought uncharitably, but outwardly nodded. “Of course.”   
“I’ll leave you to it, then, Amelia,” the Minister said cheerfully and turned a heel to apparate away.

Harry rolled his eyes, making Sirius choke back an inappropriate chuckle. They were, after all, seated around the late Lord Malfoy. 

Draco ignored them both, then focused on Madam Bones. “I’m happy to provide a copy of a memory if that would help,” he offered. “But I’d really like to get my father back to Malfoy Manor for our funeral rites.”

“I would appreciate that, Lord Malfoy,” Madam Bones said. She sighed. “May I cast on him to determine cause of death?”

“Yes,” Draco said.

A whispered spell had the words “Avada Kedavra” appearing in green over the top of Lucius’ chest. 

“Thank you,” Madam Bones said briskly. “You may take him now.”

Draco stood, and levitated his father. “If you would all meet me there?”

Narcissa held her hands out to Sirius and Harry. “I’ll guide you.”

“Oh, and Madam Bones?” Draco said, as if an afterthought. “You might want to check Alastor Moody for Polyjuice potion or something similar. He was the one who charmed the Triwizard cup, I think.”

“Directly leading Lord Potter into harm’s way,” Madam Bones said thoughtfully. “Yes, I think I’ll do that personally.”

Draco nodded, and using his ring as a portkey, he took his father home.

**Chapter 11:**

Draco woke.

The first thing he noticed was how warm he was. The second thing he noticed was that Harry James Potter was wrapped around him like a blanket.

Interesting.

The third thing he noticed was that he was in his bedroom at Malfoy Manor, and memory rushed in like an unwanted guest bolting for the buffet table.

His father was dead.

The ring had helped him process and function last night as he conducted the rites that would lay his father to rest, and cremated the body. They would hold a memorial service later.

He’d led the rites, then broken down again, and Harry had taken charge, hustling Draco into his room to clean up, change into silk pyjamas and slid into bed. After Harry himself had showered and gotten into borrowed pyjamas, he’d crawled into Draco’s bed with him. “Betrothed” rather than intended opened doors, after all, even if the pair of them agreed to wait until they were a bit older to walk through all of them. 

Falling asleep holding Harry felt amazing. Waking up with him felt even better. Draco buried his face in the curve between Harry’s neck and shoulder and decided he’d prefer never to leave that spot.

Unfortunately, his movement must have awakened Harry, because his betrothed raised a hand to stroke through his hair.

“Good morning,” he heard Harry say. 

“Morning,” Draco mumbled. He moved his head down so that it rested on Harry’s chest, and he listened to his heartbeat for several long moments, content to let his hair be played with.

“If you want to talk, I’m here,” Harry said, hesitantly. 

Draco sort of wiggled around a bit, then muttered, “Nothing to say, really. My father’s dead. Voldemort’s dead. Well and truly gone. We should be celebrating that, but I…”

“Can’t.” Harry finished the sentence for him, nodding. “I understand.” Harry took a deep breath. “I killed someone last night.”

Draco slowly sat up so that he could look Harry in the eye. “You defended us. You defended the wizarding world. You fulfilled the prophecy, and I think you did so without all the strings Dumbledore was attempting to attach to you.”

“‘Shall he not be bound,’” Harry said softly, thinking.

“He will rise as the Heir of Avalon,” Draco said, nodding. 

“But not today, I think,” Harry said, rolling them so that he could press Draco into the sheets. They both groaned a little and adjusted their hips so that they weren’t in any danger of rubbing off on each other. “Today I’m just your betrothed.”

“The Lord’s ring gave me a sense memory, one of being my animagus form,” Draco confessed. “I’m pretty sure I’m your Hawk.”

Harry backed off. “Show me.”

Draco drew a deep breath, focused, and felt the magic rising up in him as he morphed into a relatively small, slim bird with silver, white, and black markings.

“Oh, you’re gorgeous,” Harry breathed, holding out an arm so that Draco could delicately perch on it. “Some sort of harrier I think? Not a smaller goshawk.” He ran a hand over Draco’s feathers, and Draco obligingly ruffled them. 

A knock at the door startled them both, and Draco abruptly changed back into himself, tumbling both boys off the bed and to the floor. “Boys!” Sirius called. “I’m coming in.” He suited action to words and opened the door to find the pair trying to detangle themselves from each other. “What’s this, then?”

Harry blew hair out of his eyes and said, “Draco was just showing me his animagus form when you knocked. Startled him, I think because he changed back fast and we fell off the bed.”

“Really?” Sirius cocked his head to the side. “Can you show me?”

“Yeah, alright,” Draco said and detached himself from Harry to stand up, straighten his spine, and take a deep breath. He felt the change take him more quickly that time and Sirius took a quick breath. 

“Well, well, well,” he said. “Montagu’s harrier. Beautiful predator, that.”

“We’ll have to look him up,” Harry said. “Can you change back on purpose?”

Draco cocked his head, then with a whoosh of magic, was himself again.

“That is an odd feeling,” he murmured, looking at his hands. “But I suppose I’ll get used to it.”

“That must make you the Serpent,” Sirius said, looking at Harry.

“We thought so, right?” Harry said. “I can still speak Parseltongue, after all, and it makes sense. In meditation, I managed to figure out that I’m ground-based, so there you go. Still haven’t tried to transform yet.”

“Want to give it a go?” Sirius asked, curiously. “I’m here to help you if it goes wrong.”

Draco nodded encouragingly.

Harry thought about it, then stood up himself, took a deep breath, and Draco watched as the magic drew up and around him. Within seconds, a black adder with grey markings took shape on the floor at their feet. 

“Oh, Harry,” Draco said. “You thought I was gorgeous? Look at you.”

Draco felt sure that if snakes could roll their eyes, that’s what he’d be seeing Harry do. Sirius laughed as he got down on the floor and took a good look.

“You’ll be a nice size, pup,” Sirius said, looking him over. “You’ve got some growing to do, yet.”

Draco watched Harry let the magic shift him back to Harry-shape. “That was fun, actually,” Harry admitted.

“So, the Serpent and the Hawk.” Sirius stood and swept his arms out grandly. “Ready to tackle the wizarding world yet?”

“Ready for breakfast, actually,” Harry said but looked Draco over. “Do we do breakfast in pyjamas at Malfoy Manor?”

“We do today,” the new Lord Malfoy said, and he led the way to the dining room.

…

Draco spent the day going over his father’s accounts, familiarising himself with the ward schemes, comforting his mother, and generally letting himself grieve. Sirius took Harry off somewhere to do something similar. After all, the pair of them had, in fact, killed a vaguely person-shaped creature last night, one that had put them both through untold amounts of grief, and the whole ordeal deserved a bit more processing.

Late in the afternoon, Dumbledore’s phoenix, Fawkes, arrived with a flash of fire and a note inviting Draco and Harry back to Hogwarts that evening for a Feast that would conclude the tournament. He offered the Floo in the Headmaster’s office. Draco, who had Harry’s mirror since he was off with Sirius, called Sirius on it to ask about Harry’s willingness to attend.

His betrothed scrunched up his nose when asked if he wanted to go.

“Do I have to?” Harry asked. “Only I’m not interested in being on display tonight.”

Draco shrugged. “It’s likely a good idea. They’ll want to close out the tournament somehow, of course. And it will be our last chance to see Viktor for some time, I’d guess.”

Harry shook his head. “Right. And I’d kind of like to know what happened with Professor Moody.”

Right. Draco had forgotten that bit.

“We should go,” Draco said, trying not to seem reluctant. “We’ll slip in as quietly as we can, gather some intel, say our goodbyes. Have a chance to look stunning and be admired by many.”

Harry laughed but didn’t disagree. “Fine, then.” He turned and talked off screen with Sirius for a moment, then came back. “Sirius will take us. We’ll Floo over and get you first. What time is the thing starting?”

Draco reviewed the invitation again. “Looks like 7, with a reception to follow.”

“Lord’s robes, then,” Harry said, decisively. “Might as well make a statement if I’m intending to be there.”

“Isn’t wardrobe usually my area?” Draco asked, amused. 

“Well, I’ve had to learn a thing or two, haven’t I?” Harry pretended to brush lint from the front of his ageing red jumper, and Draco laughed out loud.

“There you go.” Harry smiled at him. “See you around 6:30 then? Sirius will apparate us to the gates if you’d rather not use the Floo.”

“No, I’d rather not,” Draco confirmed. “For one, it’d be like heading into an ambush. At least if we walk in on our own, we can have the illusion of control.”

Harry nodded. “Right. See you then, love.” Harry blew him a tiny kiss and said, “Harry out.”

The mirror went dark, and Draco set it down to seek out his mother and inform her of his plans.

...

Draco felt the weight of his Lord’s ring on his finger as he and Harry walked up the drive to Hogwarts. Sirius had apparated them to the front gate, then retreated to Malfoy Manor to stay with the grieving Narcissa.

Draco took Harry’s hand in his as they approached the front doors. “Ready for this?” he asked quietly. “The Feast is about to start.”

“We can slip in sort of quietly, I hope,” Harry said. “Maybe hideout at the Slytherin table?”

“And avoid the nosy Gryffindors, I assume?” Draco gave Harry a half-smile but nodded. “Fine with me.”

He didn’t notice the glow the archway gave off as the couple passed through it to enter the front door.

The first thing Draco noticed was that the Great Hall was packed. He and Harry found it easy to slide behind the Durmstrang contingent to make their way to Draco’s usual spot at the Slytherin table, and they quietly sat down. 

Theo nudged a platter of roasted, stuffed chicken toward them, and each filled a plate. Sensing their mood, the rest of the Slytherins sort of clustered together all the more tightly, keeping Lord Potter, Triwizard Champion, and the new Lord Malfoy, generally out of view.

When plates were cleared, however, Draco realised that their efforts to remain incognito had been allowed, but in vain. At the front of the hall, the judges for the Triwizard Tournament sat, including the Minister, Percy Weasley, and a peaceful-looking Albus Dumbledore, who stood up to the podium. Ludo Bagman, he noted, was nowhere to be seen.

“Good evening,” the former Headmaster said politely. “Now that we have all eaten, and our Triwizard winner has arrived, we can get on with the final ceremony of the Triwizard Tournament.”

Harry sunk a little lower in his seat, but Draco just sighed and nudged him up.

“As you may have heard, our winner, Lord Harry Potter, was transported not to the stand upon which we planned to award him his prize money, but to a site where he was intended to be a sacrifice in order to raise Lord Voldemort from the dead. When his intended realised he was missing, he and his father, Lord Lucius Malfoy, along with Lord Potter’s godfather, traced him, and Lord Malfoy was able to intervene. Unfortunately, in doing so, Lord Malfoy lost his own life.” Dumbledore paused.

Draco retained his stoic face with difficulty.

Harry looked down at his hands.

“The conspiracy to return Lord Voldemort to a body failed,” Dumbledore continued. “One of the conspirators, in this very school, impersonated Professor Alastor Moody, who has been found, alive, and is currently in Madam Pomfrey’s care. His impersonator fled, but the DMLE knows who he is, and is on the lookout.”

A low murmur broke out at this but subsided when Dumbledore smiled kindly at them all and said, “I know it’s frightening, but you are all safe here, and the DMLE has the matter well in hand. The conspirators were not successful. Lord Voldemort is most sincerely dead.”

A ripple of general approval moved through the room, but it was quiet enough that Dumbledore didn’t need to say anything more.

“Thus, it comes to this: Lord Harry James Potter was the first to reach the Triwizard Cup, and thus has won the Triwizard Tournament. If you could come up, Lord Potter?” Dumbledore gestured to his left, where the Minister stood with a bag of Galleons.

Harry stood in place, but he failed to move, and Draco just knew his betrothed was going to do something brash.

“Sir,” he called out, “I was placed in this tournament against my will, and performed in it only because of the binding contract placed on me by the Goblet of Fire. It does not seem right to me to profit by this accident.” Harry firmed his jaw. “Therefore, I will be donating this entire sum to St. Mungo’s researchers, who are working to find a way to counter the Cruciatus curse. I do so in the late Lord Malfoy’s name, and on behalf of myself and my betrothed, the current Lord Malfoy.”   
Cheers broke out, and the Minister, who was left literally holding the bag, looked nonplussed. Draco privately wondered whether it was the gesture, the quiet announcement of their betrothal, or lack of photo opportunity that made him appear so stupid, but decided he didn’t care.

Dumbledore twinkled at him. “I will ensure it gets into the right hands, then, Lord Potter. You may be seated.”

Harry sat down, and defiantly took Draco’s hand in his own.

Dumbledore let the cheers die down a bit, then drew a deep breath. “I am also here to make another announcement. As you know, I have spent a great deal of time in St. Mungo’s myself this spring due to a particularly insidious curse that left me unable to reason or process properly. While the curse has been broken, it has left numerous scars, and I am afraid I will not be able to return as Headmaster.”

Draco gaped, and he looked at Harry as the rest of the room sort of exploded again. “Did you know about this?” he whispered.

Harry shook his head no but looked to the podium as the whispers died down.

“Frankly,” Dumbledore said with a bit of a wry grin, “I think it’s past time I retired. Therefore, the Hogwarts Board has offered the position of Headmistress to Professor McGonagall on a permanent basis. She has filled in admirably over the last weeks, and I would like us all to offer her our heartfelt congratulations.”

This time, the cheers nearly lifted the roof as the Headmistress stood and gave a slight bow before sitting down.

“With that,” Dumbledore clapped once, and the hall shone with banners in all the Champions’ colours. “Let us enjoy each other’s company once more before our guests take their leave. Thank you all.”

As students left the big tables, they collapsed into the floor, and several smaller, round tables appeared in corners. Soft music began to play from somewhere, and a drinks table appeared near the front of the room.

“Interesting,” Draco said. “Looks like a party. Care to dance, Lord Potter?”

“I do, Lord Malfoy,” Harry said, cheekily holding his hand out. Draco took it, then spun him onto the floor to hold him close.

“This is what I wanted at the Yule Ball,” Draco whispered into Harry’s ear. “You, in my arms, in front of absolutely everybody.”

“Good thing for you that I wanted the same thing,” Harry said, just as soft. He grinned wickedly and dipped Draco, who burst out laughing as he was hauled back up and let go of Harry’s hands to cup his face.

“I love you,” Draco said.

Harry put his hands over Draco’s. “I love you, too.”

**Epilogue: Ten years later**

Draco woke up slowly, registering his husband’s presence at his side, curled up and still. The dawn was just breaking outside of their window, and he wondered, briefly, what had woken him before he heard it again.

A soft whimper.

Ah.

Draco eased himself out of the bed and padded over to the crib where their newborn son lay.

“Needing a feed and a change, love?” he crooned as he picked his little one up. Solemn, deep blue eyes, just edging into green, regarded him. “Did daddy get your 2 a.m. feed? I thought I’d slept a bit too long.”

Baby Bryan James Potter-Malfoy, Heir to two Houses, looked unimpressed. He whimpered again, and Draco deftly moved him to the changing table to take care of the nappy, then reached for one of the bottles they kept in stasis on the shelf next to it. He shook it up and sat with Bryan in the rocking chair. He let his son latch on, and rocked him gently while he talked softly to him.

“Your father is a menace, you know.” Draco smiled down at Bryan. “Working all day to make this world a better place for you, coming home and taking care of your 2 a.m. feed as if he’s not due to spend the day presiding over the Wizengamot and making more decisions for Avalon.”

Bryan blinked, and Draco took that for encouragement. “Well, and he’s been doing a fine job, hasn’t he? Revising the creatures laws, setting aside magical sanctuaries, setting up local wizarding primary schools. He wants this world to be a home for you, my love, as much as I do, and there’s been a lot of work to be done to whip it into shape.”

He’d drunk half the bottle, so Draco lifted it from his lips and put the baby up on his shoulder to pat his back until he was rewarded with a large burp. He settled Bryan back down in the crook of his arm to give him the other half of the bottle. Bryan latched on, and Draco continued talking.

“I’m so happy we found a way to make you, Bryan,” Draco said. “So happy we found that ritual, and that our friend Luna was happy to carry you. You are flesh of our flesh, blood of our blood, and we are so much better for having you here, in our lives.”

Bryan blinked again. Draco gently kissed his forehead as the little eyes, so open and solemn, began to close. He lifted the bottle from the baby’s lips and burped him again before he fell all the way under, his limited experience having taught him to do so. Bryan would sleep, again, for three hours if he did; for less than twenty minutes, if he didn’t.

A cuddle, another kiss to the forehead, and Bryan was laid back down in his crib with an “I love you” whispered into the dark. Draco made his way back to the bed and slipped in beside Harry, who had rolled over and cuddled Draco’s pillow while he was away.

He tucked himself around his husband and slept.

  
  



End file.
